Tears Dry On Their Own
by hollister9
Summary: Hermione is not meant to be in 1976. She's not meant to be a slave for the Ancient House of Black. And she's not meant to succumb to Sirius Black.
1. Chapter 1

**Tears Dry On Their Own**

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><p><strong>by <em>Hollister9<em>**

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><p><strong>Summary: <strong>_Newly engaged, Hermione Granger is thrown back in time to 1976 where she is a slave for the Ancient House of Black. She is brutally treated. Sirius, out of hate for his family and love for her, risks everything to protect her from his parents._

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><p>Hermione Granger was now an engaged woman. Ron had proposed to her on the night of their first kiss, and she had said yes. It was a long time coming - Hermione and Ron getting married was as inevitable as Harry and Ginny. They were childhood sweethearts. They were 'meant to be'. But right now, however happy she was supposed to be, she was the opposite. To put it bluntly, she felt damn well <em>fucked<em> off. It wasn't, as you may have expected, her ginger fiancé, her spectacled best friend or the raging Mrs Weasley that was the reason for her miserable mood.

It was Sirius Black.

This news may be unsurprising. It was common knowledge amongst 'their lot' that Sirius and Hermione clashed more than a cross-dressing chav. Out of the 365 days of the year, 364 of them they were arguing. The day when they managed to be civil to each other was Christmas. But never in all the years that she had known the annoyingly reckless man had she been so angry at him. When hearing the news of their engagement, Sirius had come up to her, put her arm around her, and said – (these were his exact words) – "'Mione love, what the hell are you doing? You have more in common with that ginger than a polar bear and the bloody _Queen_."

You can imagine that Hermione went off on one.

Firstly, because no matter how many times she had said to him, _'actually Sirius, my name is Hermione',_ he still called her 'Mione'. He was just as stubborn as she was and it drove her insane. And the other thing – well. One thing you must know about Hermione Granger was that when didn't understand something, she didn't like it. So when she didn't understand Sirius Black, she didn't like _him_ at all.

There was no book she could turn to that would explain the strange man that he was. And with her most reliable source of knowledge gone, she just couldn't _get_ him. Let's be honest, she had never been good at reading the opposite sex anyway, (how long had it taken for her and Ron to realise that they fancied each other?) …point made. But with Sirius, he was a whole other story. Yes, for once in her lifetime, Hermione Granger was completely and utterly clueless about the subject of Sirius Black.

She had pulled him from the Veil, and instead of being a 41 year old as he should have been, the Veil had un-aged him and now he was a very young looking 36 year old and – it _has_ to be said – a jaw droppingly gorgeous man.

This didn't help matters.

He would sit for hours on end in the Black library with her. She would normally read an 800 page long Shakespeare classic of some sort whilst he just sat there with his hands interlaced, staring out the window as if he was visiting his own personal pensieve of memories. Not a word passed between them. Ever. And if in the rare case words were said, they would be brief, blunt and vague, like one of them had just realised that sharing the same sofa together for five hours in complete silence was a bit - well…_weird_.

Their relationship was weird.

They spent so much time together, but weren't close. They felt as though they knew each other, but really they didn't have a clue. Heck, she wouldn't even stretch to calling them friends, but they cared for each other deeply. Probably more than was appropriate to. He felt it too, she knew he did. The way he would look at her and the way he would smile at her... It was like he knew more about her than he was letting on. Like he knew her more than she knew herself.

The day after she and Ron had announced their engagement, she was standing in the drawing room when she saw Sirius approaching. He was pushing his black-brown locks out of his eyes with a shaky hand, a thing he only did when he was nervous. She looked up at him, expecting him to make his usual sweet apology. But he didn't.

Instead, he asked _her_ to do something.

"You want me to leave?" she gasped. She hadn't been expecting that. "W-what? Have I done something? I don't understand! If it's about our argument yesterday, that was _your_ fault and you know it-"

It seemed he had been expecting her reaction. No one would/could ask Hermione Granger to leave their house without being shouted at. He sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "I know it was. But I told you, you haven't done anything wrong, I- I just think you need to move out of Grimmauld. Get your own place. You're twenty one now. You're a woman, Mione. An engaged woman at that. Do you really want to be living in this house, with two old men forever?"

"You and Remus aren't old Sirius! And when have you ever been encouraging me to leave? You've always been telling me to stay!"

He held his furious gaze for minutes until he eventually broke it. "Yeah well. I don't want you to now. I realised that I'm holding you back. You should go and – and do stuff that young women like yourself do. Go travelling or something-"

"I did all my travelling on the hunt for Horcruxes thank you very much," she snapped. "And how are you holding me back for Christ sake?" She didn't wait for him to answer before she carried on. "Oh y'know what? I can tell when I'm not wanted-"

He dropped his head in his hands. "Mione," he groaned, "I didn't say that-!"

"No, it's fine! I'll pack my things and I'll go now. If you want me out, I'm gone."

She turned on her heel and marched to her bedroom and threw a large suitcase on the bed. He followed her swiftly, watching with sullen eyes as she madly emptied her wardrobe and chucked her clothes in her case, filling it as quick as possible.

"Stop. You don't have to go. Stay," he said, grabbing her shoulders to still her. "Hermione _stay. _Please."

Wow. _Hermione._ He must mean it if he's calling her by her full name. _Prick_. He was just calling her that to get back on her good side.

"No Sirius." she sighed and shook her head. "You're right. I need to move on. I'm twenty one for goodness sake, I'm engaged, living in a house with two men, one being my former Professor and the other my best friend's Godfather!" she laughed shrilly and flung her case shut, zipping it up with her wand.

"Well – where are you going to go?" he asked, practically chasing after her as she legged it down the stairs.

"Ron's."

His eyes narrowed. "But he's training! I thought you agreed you weren't going to live with him until he was a qualified Auror?"

"Well, I guess I changed my mind didn't I?" she huffed, rounding on him as she pulled on her coat. "Now, I appreciate you escorting me to the door of your house. I think I can take it from here thank you!"

"Mione, _wait!_" he begged her.

When she rolled her eyes to indicate she was 'waiting' he sighed and dug into his waistcoat pocket.

"Take this before you go," he said, dangling his pocket watch in his hand for her to take. "Someone very special gave it to me some time ago. It's one of my most prized possessions; I want you to have it."

Jesus. He really was pushing the boat out trying to be nice to her. Well - unfortunately for him, it wasn't working. Why should she feel bad? He was the one who was kicking her out after all. When she told Harry and Ron about this, they were going to apparate round there in a flash and stupefy his arrogant arse. She acted grateful but shook her head. "Oh, really Sirius, it's fine-"

"No. Take it. I want you to have it."

"I couldn't possibly-" she half chuckled.

"Hermione darling, can you please shut that brilliant mind of yours for one second, screw the politeness and take the bloody thing?"

Her mouth dropped in surprise, completely thrown off guard by his outburst (even if she was secretly quite pleased). She recollected herself a few seconds later and bit back a smile. "Why?" she asked him, finding herself greatly intrigued.

"See it as a leaving home present," he smiled, taking her hand in his and opening her palm. She buttoned her lips shut at their skin contact, trying not to notice the tingling that was prickling her fingers.

She raised her eyes to his grey ones, locked in his gaze for a full minute before unspokenly agreeing what to do next. They collided into each other in a bone-crunching hug.

"This is the longest conversation we've had without arguing," she murmured in his ear.

He laughed softly and cuddled her tighter. Her eyes fluttered close at his warmth. "Well, we were kind of arguing though weren't we?"

"Yes I suppose," she whispered. She found herself wondering if he had always stroked her hair when they hugged, because it felt so natural when he did it now. It was an odd feeling. She had never felt it with Ron before. "I'll…I'll miss you."

The words had come out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she cringed when she heard how cliché and cheesy she sounded. He noticed her reaction and his lips twitched into a smile.

"I'll miss you too. So much."

They eventually broke away from each other. He dropped the golden pocket watch into her hand he was still holding and curled her fingers closed around it.

"Hermione - I- before you go- I want you to know..." he began, inhaling deeply. "I love you. I always have. And I-" he swallowed hard and smiled slightly. "And I always will."

He glanced up at her nervously, only to find that she had disappeared. He turned around in confusion, thinking maybe she somehow had gone back into the house. He had no idea why she would have, but that would have explained why she wasn't in front of him now.

"What the hell-"

She was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't walked away from him or apparated. She had just… gone. It was as if she had dissolved in thin air in front of him. One second she was there, and the next she wasn't.

"Mione?" Sirius yelled. "_Hermione?_"

She didn't reply. She couldn't hear him. She had gone!

Why did it have to be now of all moments? When he had finally plucked up the courage to tell her, she wasn't there to hear it.

And then it clicked. It all made sense. He understood. He knew where she was going - he had known for years really, and he had been waiting for this day for years... and now it was here.

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><p>Hermione was hurtling through black smoke rings, her head banging, her ears ringing and her eyes streaming with tears as she was tossed around carelessly. She was screaming Sirius's name, clawing at nothingness for him. But he wasn't there. She was falling…falling…falling, until there was a bright illumination of light and her feet landed with a thump on solid ground.<p>

Breathless with panic, Hermione blinked her eyes open and stared around her. Within seconds, she knew where she was. In fact, she knew the place well. Everything was impossibly blacker than she remembered it. But she was positive she wasn't wrong. Hadn't she been eating breakfast there this morning? She timidly peered around the corner. '_The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black'_ was printed in on the wall in silver and green italics, confirming her suspicions of her location. The Daily Prophet lay open on the table with the date.

_20__th__ July 1976._

Her heart stopped, and she felt herself do a double take. Had she…? No. She couldn't have.

She ran helplessly into the drawing room that she and Sirius had been arguing in minutes ago, only to find it empty. She did the same with all the other rooms. But like all the others, there was no one there. Where the hell was everyone? Where was Sirius? She hurtled down the creaky stairs, almost jumping out of her skin with the sight she was met with.

Standing in the hallway, dressed head to toe in black finery was a woman with sleek black hair pinned into such a tight bun it could give McGonagall's a run for her money. She was stunning, with her high cheekbones and sharp features, but judging by her steely staring hawk-like eyes which were burning into her own, she was not a woman not a woman you crossed.

Especially if you were a muggle-born.

Unless Hermione was mistaken, she was standing metres away from none other than Walburga Black. The woman made her tremble uncontrollably. It wasn't _all_ out of fear, even if she did make Voldemort seem friendly and cute. She was trembling, because this was confirming her other suspicion.

She didn't know how or why, or even if it was possible with a pocket watch, but she knew that somehow she had travelled back in time.

25 years back.


	2. Chapter 2

Walburga Black's smoky eyes pierced hers. If looks could kill, Hermione would be lying motionless on the floor right about now.

"I think I hired you piece of filth to clean my house didn't I?" Her eerily calm voice sent shivers down her spine. "So why, slave, are you standing there doing nothing? I want all these floors cleaned before the hour is out. Then, you can polish all the ornaments in the drawing room…" she pointed a long bony finger at her. "But wash your dirty hands before you touch anything. I do not want my house honour becoming infected by a mud blood."

Hermione glanced at her, eyes wide with disbelief. Had she really just heard that? What the hell was going on?

She raised her head arrogantly. "Follow me slave. I will show you your sleeping headquarters."

She marched through the hallway and opened the door under the stairs. Looking inside, it was not a cupboard as Hermione had expected. There was a spiral of dusty steps which led down to some kind of attic. Whatever it was, she couldn't see it. It was in total darkness.

"Now. Before you start, I would like to make a few things clear," she said in a sick sweet voice. "_You are a slave_. Like a house elf, you are bound to the Noble and most Ancient House of Black, so you must obey us at all times. If you choose not to, I will be more than happy to introduce you to my dear friend _Crucio_."

She cracked a wicked smile and carried on.

"You are to be up at six o'clock sharp every morning to start your chores. You will sweep and mop the floors until they are shining. Polish the ornaments. Make the beds. Clean the kitchen. Chores are to be finished before dinner at six pm. My family do not want to see your face, so you will return to your chamber and stay there. Kreacher will serve you food if he feels you are working to a satisfactory standard. Now, go down," she ordered her. "Kreacher has left your new clothes there. Change into them. If you are not up and cleaning in two minutes, you will be meeting _Crucio_ sooner than you think."

Hermione found herself struggling to breathe. She had chores. She was a slave. She was bound to the House of Black! This couldn't be possible…

"GO!" the woman barked.

"Okay-"

"_YES YOUR HONOUR!_" she shrieked.

Then Hermione was shoved down the concrete steps, the door slamming straight after her. The steps seemed to go on forever. She rolled and plummeted down them, her arms and legs a tangled mess. She smacked her head against the wall several times before landing with a final crash at the bottom.

She lay sprawled on the floor like a broken rag doll.

Her muscles were screaming with the strain and judging by the purple swelling forming, she had broken her wrist. Clenching her teeth, she somehow managed to heave herself on to all fours.

So she had travelled back to 1976, become a _slave_ for the Black family and broken her wrist all in the space of ten minutes. What else could possibly happen to her?

Voices could be heard from upstairs, and she choked back her sobs so she could hear them.

"...I could tell she was one of them as soon as I saw her. Who does she think she is, walking in Knockturn Alley? She's dirtying our territory Orion!"

"So you brought her back home and made her our slave?" a deep voice said, "do you know anything about her? She may be a very able witch-"

"She's not a witch," Walburga insisted. "She's a mud blood. She smells like one too…"

She said something under her breath that Hermione didn't quite catch, but she had a feeling it sounded awfully like 'muggle perfume'.

"When you searched her," the male voice of Orion said, "did she possess a wand?"

"No. I searched her everywhere. She had nothing on her."

"Very well, I will inspect her now. It shouldn't take too long. Afterwards, I must go and collect the boys from Kings Cross."

"Certainly dear."

Hermione had no recollection of stepping foot in Knockturn Alley let alone coming face to face with Walburga Black. As far as she was knew, she was given a pocket watch and travelled back in time by accident. A wave of relief rushed through her when she realised that she had somehow 'missed' their first meeting at Knockturn. Walburga had clearly groped her in some way in an attempt to find her wand, but obviously the cruel woman had not searched her everywhere, because she still had her wand. It was hidden and tucked away in her bra. She had always kept in there in case a dangerous situation came about. Like_ this_.

She withdrew it from her secret place with her uninjured hand.

"_Lumos," _she whispered.

The room brightened immediately and Hermione stared around her. She was expecting the room to be bad, but this was ghastly.

The floor was damp and dirty, the ceiling was matted with cobwebs and so low anyone over 6ft would've had to duck to move around. When Walburga said 'sleeping headquarters' she thought it was some indication that there would be a bed.

There wasn't.

Instead, there was thin blanket chucked on the floor with a small lump of a pillow on top of it. Her new clothes (a white dress that looked more like a sack) was also there, along with a candle. That made her laugh. It was as if Kreacher had looked around the room and almost felt sorry for her. And so, (thinking that she didn't have a wand) he had left a candle in there so she could see. _A candle!_ The shittiest source of light ever.

She hid her face in her hands. How did she get in this situation? She didn't know what to do. What _could_ she do but wait till the day she went back to her own time? Nothing was the answer. She would just have to live it out as a slave. She had read in a book somewhere that you couldn't live in the past for more than a year. So she wasn't going to be here forever. She could get through it. After all, she'd been through worse…

With a new kind of determination, she undressed as a quick as she could, trying not to scream out loud when she accidentally knocked her wrist. It was her right wrist that was broken, her wand hand. She could barely perform the _'Lumos'_ spell earlier, let alone a healing one, which was much more difficult. She had to accept that for the meanwhile she was going to have to put up with it somehow. Sighing, she wriggled into the sack-like dress that Kreacher had so kindly provided for her, making sure that her wand was still tucked in to her bra and out of sight. _At least she didn't have a mirror so she wouldn't have to see her reflection…_

"_SLAVE!_" Mrs Black screeched.

Hermione rushed up the steps, her body filling with more dread the closer she came to the door.

She opened it.

"SLA-! Oh. Here she is Orion."

Hermione swallowed hard as Orion Black approached her.

He was handsome like Sirius with dark waxy hair, pale skin and light grey eyes, except where Sirius's were warm and kind, his fathers were cold and menacing. His footsteps echoed on the marble floor, and she dropped her eyes to her feet as he circled her with his arms crossed.

"Hmm," he murmured. "Hmmm."

She closed her eyes as she felt his body brush behind her. She felt like he was examining her body attractiveness rather than her 'slaving abilities'.

"What's her name?" he asked his wife.

"Slave."

He chuckled lowly and continued circling around her, feeling his eyes slide over her with an unabashed liking that made her feel sick. Her breath nearly hitched when she felt the dread of his hand stroke down her back. His skin was ice cold and sunk lower and lower, until it came to a rest on her arse. After a few more minutes, he moved back round to the front of her and to her horror, leaned forward and tilted her chin up to look at him.

"What's your name beautiful?"

She swallowed again. "H-Hermione."

"Ah, Hermione. That's a very pretty name."

A dark smile crept upon his lips and she felt him move closer. So close to her that she could see the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and the bristles on his chin.

He dropped his gaze to her lips and stared almost longingly at them for ten seconds before standing up again.

"We'll have her," he muttered to his wife.

Mrs Black nodded and he strolled away.

"I'm going to get the boys from the station," he called, "Tell Kreacher I want the dinner ready for when I get back."

And with that, he left.

Mrs Black's attention instantly switched back to her - the slave.

She threw a cloth at her and snapped, "_Get to work!_" before turning on her heel and striding into the kitchen.

Hermione dropped to her knees and with her unbroken hand began to scrub, knowing that if hell was such a place, then she was as close to it as she could get.

Little did she know that it was about to get much, _much_ worse…

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><p><em>So I told you guys I would write a SiriusHermione time-travel fic. What are your thoughts so far?_

_Let me know! all feedback is appreciated :) love Soph._


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione's head was focussed on the floor, her jaw set as she scrubbed ferociously for what felt like forever. Her eyeballs never swivelled to the old grandfather clock on the wall, not even when it fell dark. She refused to complain. She wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. She didn't want to meet _Crucio._ Bellatrix had introduced them once before…

It must have been late when she finished her chores because the darkness had swallowed her up completely. It was strange how she had lived at Grimmauld Place for two years and knew the place inside out, but now looking around her it was as if she'd never been there before. In the dark everything seemed ten times scarier. She could see nothing. No grandfather clock on the wall… no brass banister… not even the frame of a door. Standing on the first floor landing, Hermione had never felt so cold, tired or incredibly alone.

There was an echoing of footsteps coming from downstairs which awoke her from her thoughts and she inclined her head to listen. The footsteps grew louder and louder until they stopped altogether and all that was heard was a key in the lock followed by a creak of a door.

"Kreacher!" shouted the voice of Orion, "Dinner best be ready!"

There was a squeaking of wheels on the floor, and Hermione guessed that two trunks were being heaved in.

"Certainly master Black," came the raspy small voice of Kreacher. "It is on the table, waiting to be served. Master Regulas-!"

She heard the house elf's voice become noticeably breathless with excitement.

"How good it is to see you home sir!"

"You too Kreacher. It's nice to be back. Mother…"

She heard Mrs Black cry in surprise followed by a rustle of clothes, suggesting that they had moved swiftly and were embracing.

"My boy, my precious boy!" she cried. It was the first time that Hermione had heard the woman speak with love and adoration in her voice. "Are you well?" she asked him. "Still top of your year? Of course you are. Still showing everyone what it is to have the royal and pure blood of the Blacks? Of course you are!"

"Mother!" Regulas chuckled.

There was a disgusted sigh and the atmosphere changed dramatically. She had a feeling she knew why.

"And you!" she hissed.

Obviously, she was not speaking to Regulas anymore, for the love and adoration from her voice had gone.

"What do you have to say for yourself? You've ignored all your father and I's letters! You have not written to us all year! I thought I made it clear to you at Christmas that I will not allow you to treat us with such disrespect, but evidently I will have to make it clearer next time-"

"Give it a rest will you? I've only just stepped through the door and you're going on at me! And then you wonder why I don't write to you? You're even madder than I thought you were... I thought that was impossible. Unlucky dad!"

There was a bark of laughter.

_Sirius._ Hermione thought. His voice wasn't as deep as the Sirius she knew, but it was definitely him. Her heart warmed at the sound. He didn't even know who she was yet, yet she instantly felt safer knowing he was here with her, just downstairs.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" she screeched. "You should be ashamed! Orion – you are going to have to speak to that boy- I will lose my temper if I do-"

"Sounds like you've already lost it," Sirius commented, sounding like he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Hermione bit back a laugh and shook her head.

In 24 years, he hadn't changed one bit.

"WHY YOU LITTLE SWINE!" she seethed, "_ORION SAY SOMETHING!_"

"After dinner Walburga. Boys, into the kitchen please," he said sternly in a voice of no argument.

Sirius, however, had other ideas.

"I'm going upstairs. I'm not hungry."

"Sirius…" Orion warned him.

But he had already started up the stairs.

"Sirius! You come back down here now!"

"We can have a little father-son chat later dad!" he shouted back.

She listened to him running up the stairs. She could imagine him now, taking them two at a time like he usually did. She smiled in reminiscence, and then swore under her breath. She was standing on the first floor landing. He would run straight into her!

She saw his dark silhouette coming closer and - thinking quickly, she backed up against the wall and swore.

The wall was closer than she thought. In her blind panic, she had crushed her hand between her back and wall. It was her right hand. The one with a broken wrist.

She doubled over in agony.

She must have sworn loudly, because Sirius had reached the landing and stilled. In the blackness, she could make out the outline of him stepping closer to her.

"Hello?"

She didn't reply. She was too breathless with pain.

There was silence for another minute or two, the only sounds being heard were the footsteps from downstairs as Orion, Walburga and Regulas entered the kitchen. There was a slam of a door, then complete silence.

"I can see you, you know," Sirius voice said through the darkness.

The floorboards creaked as he moved. She didn't realise how close he was until his hand brushed her shoulder then rested on it.

He took her silence as an enquiry and cleared his throat to explain himself.

"I'm… er – ah, how can I put this… I'm a animagus," he whispered. "I can turn into a dog, and dogs have a much better eye sight than humans. Especially in the dark."

Hermione of course already knew this, but she was still mildly surprised he had told her so quickly. To him, she was a stranger.

Minutes past and she still didn't speak. She just couldn't. Her hand started to throb furiously, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip and inhaled deeply.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked. "You're shaking."

She didn't reply again, and he sighed and felt him move. Next thing she knew, she was squinting back the burst of light that had flooded the landing. Eventually, her eyes adjusted to the change and she blinked up at the young Sirius, who had swiftly pocketed his wand.

The first thing she noticed was his height. He was _so_ tall. He was one of those lucky people that looked older when they were young and younger when they were old. She supposed it ran in the Black blood. They all had sinfully good-looks. But with his warm grey eyes, graceful smile, fluffy teenage stubble and dark whippy hair, Sirius really was the best of the batch. He was sort of smirking at her with a twinkle in his eye; as if he was reading her mind and thinking the same thing.

_Nope,_ Hermione thought. _He definitely hasn't changed._

He was wearing a leather jacket and chinos - obviously having thrown them on hurriedly on the Hogwarts Express – but still, he managed to look gorgeous. Hermione imagined that no matter what age he was, Sirius could make a plastic-bag look like cat walk material.

That's a thought… how old _was_ he exactly?

She did the math quickly in her head. It was 1976 now, and she was sure the Sirius in her time had told her that he was born in 1959 on Halloween… and as they were in July now, that made him… sixteen.

_Sixteen! _

She never, ever imagined she would ever be saying she was older than Sirius Black. He was Harry's Godfather, her old housemate, her arch enemy merging with her greatest muse, the man she could never read or understand…

He was _Sirius!_ He was _always_ older than her!

Yet here she was, a 21 year old woman being towered over by a sixteen year old version of that man she knew so well.

Her head was spinning. It was too surreal.

And then he spoke.

"Who are you?"

Something clenched inside her at his words. She didn't think she could tell him that she was his slave. It hurt too much.

"You'll find out soon enough," was all she said.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and dropped the subject. For now anyway.

"What have you done to your hand?"

Hermione snapped her head up to look at him and then down to her hand. She quickly hid it behind her back.

"Oh - it's nothing," she told him.

"And I'm a baboon's arse," he said. "What happened? Let me see."

He made to move behind her but she blocked him.

"Leave it. I'm fine."

"No you're not. Show me."

"No!"

"Why?"

"Stop it, I'm fine!"

"You're fine?"

"Yes!"

"Oh really?"

"Really!"

And he hadn't changed when it came to their arguing either, that was for sure.

"Then why did you swear when I came up the stairs?" he asked her.

_Damn. _

"I – I don't know," she stammered, desperately trying to think of an excuse. "I…I was scared… I don't like the dark…"

He crossed his arms, clearly unconvinced.

"Why don't you like the dark?"

Hermione blinked. _What on earth could she say to that? _

"Because it's… dark?"

He stared at her for a full minute before bursting out laughing. His barking laugh was so contagious, even she had to shut her eyes in embarrassment and purse her lips to stop herself from smiling.

"You're really shit at lying," he eventually said.

This time, he didn't wait for to reply. He moved forward and closed his fingers around her elbow. She sighed as he gently brought her arm round to the front so he could properly see what she was hiding.

When he saw her hand, it was his turn to swear.

"How did you do it?"

"It was an accident… I- I fell over," she replied.

It wasn't an entire lie. She _had_ fallen over. It just wasn't accident.

She squeezed her eyes shut when she felt his hand slide lower down her arm and, ever so slowly, brush his fingers over her wrist.

"Does that hurt?" he murmured to her.

He pulled away immediately when she winced in pain.

She opened her eyes and gasped when she saw him drawing his wand.

"What are you doing?"

"Fixing your wrist. I can do healing charms."

He bent over, his eyes squinting in concentration and pointed his wand.

"_Epis_-"

"NO, STOP!"

She snatched his wand out of his hand before he could even finish the spell. He shook his head at her in bemusement; to say he looked startled would be an understatement.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hermione stage-whispered, "You're not allowed to do magic outside school! You'll be expelled!"

"Love," he almost laughed, "your – wrist – is – _broken!_ How else do you expect to fix it? And anyway, how did you know I'm not allowed to do magic outside school?"

She swallowed nervously, unsure how to reply.

"Erm, I used to go to Hogwarts…" she shrugged, trying to sound casual.

"No you didn't."

Her heart nearly stopped. He had said she was shit at lying, but was she really that shit? She must have had _'girl from the future'_ stamped on her forehead in red capital letters, otherwise why else would he have said that? Technically, she wasn't even lying because she _did_ attend Hogwarts!

Just not in the 1970's…

"You didn't," he repeated. "I wouldn't have forgotten a face like yours."

"Ouch. That ugly am I?"

She grinned as he roared with laughter.

"No, what I meant was… I- I…"

Listening to Sirius struggle and blush - it was the first time she had truly smiled that day.

He cleared his throat and raised his eyes to meet hers.

"I was thinking quite the contrary actually."

Hermione froze. Did Sirius Black tell her – in other words – that he thought she was beautiful?

Her heart was hammering and she felt her sure her mouth was hanging open. He had to be joking! She was wearing a sack of a dress, and had been cleaning for five hours, meaning that she probably looked as attractive as… well, she couldn't think of anything right now, but she would bet money she that she looked disgusting. He winked charmingly at her, and unless she was mistaken, he had moved closer to her as well.

"So," he grinned, "now that you've discovered that I think you're positively beau-" he stopped abruptly as her eyes widened in disbelief.

"You're serious?"

His hand flew to his hair and he pushed it back coolly, grinning wider. "In response to both questions, yes I am. Now, will you tell me your name?"

Before she had the chance to reply, someone beat her to it.

"_SLAVE!_"

Sirius's eyes swivelled to staircase, where his mother's voice was coming from, and back to her again.

"SLAVE!GET DOWN HERE YOU PIECE OF FILTH!"

Sirius's eyes never moved from hers, not even when she took the dreaded footsteps to the foot of the stairs.

"I have to go…" she whispered.

"Why? What's she talking about? Where are you going? I don't understand-" he began, but stopped when she shook her head.

"_SLAVE, IF I HAVE TO CALL YOU ONE MORE TIME, YOU WILL MEET CRUCIO TONIGHT! RIGHT NOW!_" came the screeching voice of Walburga Black.

Hermione closed her eyes in horror and raced down the stairs, glancing over her shoulder when she reached the bottom. Sirius was standing on the top step, his eyes following her every move. He made to follow her but before he had even moved, she had been grabbed viciously by the neck and yanked out of sight.

* * *

><p><em>I thought I'd post this chapter as well, because posting 2 chapters was just evil on my part wasn't it? Speaking of evil, how are you finding the Black family so far? <em>

_Feed back is welcome! Love, Soph :) _


	4. Chapter 4

At sixteen minutes past four in the morning, Sirius had accepted that sleep would not come for him. He lay under the comfort of his silk bedcovers, looking up at the ceiling. He had been thinking the same thing over and over: that girl was a slave for his family. A _slave_. She was under their command, which meant that she was bound to the Black family for the rest of her life. Did she have any idea what that meant?

His mother was the definition of bitch and had his tosser of a brother wrapped around her little finger. What with their pure-blood mania, together they were going to make her life more of a living hell than they had made his. His dad wasn't like them. He was reasonable, and at times they did get along, but unlike him his dad wouldn't object to his mum's demonic opinions for the sake of an argument.

_Well, screw the argument_. Sirius thought. _This is wrong._ It was never in his nature for him to sit back and watch something terrible unfold, so he wasn't going to do it now either.

As soon as the sun rose, he showered, dressed and headed downstairs in search for the girl he had spoken to yesterday. He didn't even get her name, but there was something about her that intrigued him. Maybe it was the mystery of not knowing who she was, or the fact that she was one of the few women that could make him laugh, or because she was possibly the _only_ woman who could match him in an argument… whatever it was, he wanted to know more.

After finding the drawing room, living room and library empty, he entered the kitchen in the hope that she was there doing some sort of cleaning, but was otherwise met with his family eating breakfast in silence. He didn't eat with them if he could help it, though this time it seemed he would have to. Their argument the night before had clearly not been forgotten; His mother had paused eating to fix her eldest with a glare that could kill and she slowly drew her wand.

"Sit," she hissed.

Until that moment he didn't realise a one syllable word could be spoken with such venom. He coughed loudly to hide his snigger. However much he wanted to duel with his dear mother, now was not the time.

He sighed dramatically and fell into his seat, arrogantly tipping his chair back on its hind legs like he always did. He saw Regulas eyeing up the last slice of buttered toast on the table, debating in his mind whether to eat it or not. Sirius had the solution. He quickly snatched it up and ripped into it, smirking smugly when his brother's outstretched hand clenched into a shaking fist.

Kreacher turned the plate of crumbs to a pile of toast again with a click of his bony fingers.

"You have prepared a vast amount of food Kreacher," Walburga noted. "Are you planning on giving the slave our leftovers?"

"No Mistress," the elf piped up, shaking his head vigorously. "She not working hard enough… she not up to the standards that I would like for you mistress…"

"Is that so? I thought as much," she sniffed. "Very well. You are not to feed her until she is meeting those standards Kreacher. Monitor her closely. I do not want her eating when she is so undeserving."

Kreacher nodded and bowed. "Yes of course mistress… anything for you…"

Sirius scowled and dropped his chair back on all four legs.

"What do you want?" his mother snapped.

Orion lowered his newspaper and shook his head at him, as if already predicting what was to come. Sirius ignored him.

"Isn't it bad enough that you've made the girl be your slave and forced to live here against her will?" he fired up, "and now you're not going to feed her? You have to! She isn't going to last one week-!"

"GOOD!" Walburga screamed, "Then that will teach her to not trespass in _our_ territory! Knockturn Alley is not a place for filthy mud bloods, nor is the world at all for that matter!"

"What's she ever done to you?"

Walburga laughed darkly as if he had told a particularly good joke. To his disgust, Kreacher and Regulas joined in. When she sobered up, she arched her eyebrow. "She is living," she said.

Sirius kicked his chair back and stood up.

"THIS IS WRONG! You have no right to do this to her! She has done nothing to you, and yet you feel as though you have the power to punish her and control what she does-?"

That was it. She had switched.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING!" she roared, "NOTHING! HOW DARE YOU EVEN QUESTION MY MOTIVES BOY! YOU DO AS I SAY, MY WORD IS THE FINAL WORD YOU HEAR ME? ORION – LET GO – I NEED TO TEACH HIM A LESSON – _ORION!_" she struggled breathlessly, her husband was grabbing her arm to stop her hexing him... or worse. "I _DO NOT_ WANT TO SEE YOUR _DISGRACEFUL_ FACE, GO TO YOUR ROOM NOW!" She was screaming so hysterically the veins in her head were throbbing. Sirius shot her a teasing wink and swaggered out of the room happily, slamming the door shut behind him for good measure.

He chuckled through his anger as his mother shrieked a "_AND STAY THERE!_"

Working her up was one of his favourite forms of entertainment. He took pleasure in seeing her face red and puffing and considered it a job well done if she was shaking in fury. His father had told him on more than one occasion that there would come a day where he pushed her that little too far, and she would crack. Sirius would shrug and reply that he would greet the day with open arms.

Instead of going up to his room, he searched the floor for the pretty girl. He wanted so desperately to call for her, but what could he say? He didn't know her name, and he refused to call her 'slave'.

Rounding the foot of the stairs having searched all the rooms again, he cleared his throat.

"Excuse me?" he hesitantly called. "It's – it's Sirius. I was speaking to you last night. If you can hear me now, I'm trying to talk to you – there are some things I'd like you to know…"

He was wary of how loudly he was speaking. He didn't want his family to hear, for he knew they would undoubtedly punish her for even speaking to him and that was the last thing he wanted. He spoke loud enough for her to hear, but quiet enough so _they_ wouldn't.

"Just tell me where you are, if you can," he continued. "I'm on your side. I want to help you."

There was a few minutes of waiting in silence before a hollow knock sounded, like a fist on wood. Sirius stilled to listen harder, his keen sense of dog-hearing told him that it was coming from the hallway, just outside the kitchen door.

He edged his way towards the door under the stairs, believing she must have been on the other side. He was right.

"Sirius? Is that you?" came a muffled, female voice.

He placed his hands either side of the doorframe and leant in to whisper back.

"Yeah it's me. Are you okay?"

"Fine," she muttered, taking up the same position. Had there not been the wood separating them, they would have been touching.

Sirius knew better than to think she was fine. His bitch of a mother had dragged her out of his sight the night before, and he couldn't forget the look of fear etched on her sweet face.

"What did she do to you?" he murmured in a tone of urgency.

"Nothing – nothing," she said back. "I heard you fighting. You don't have to defend me Sirius, I don't want to cause any more tension between you and your family-"

"You stop right there!" he was quiet but firm. "I hated them before you came. There has always been tensions, ever since I was sorted into Gryffindor when I was eleven. What they've done to you - it only makes me see clearer what I already knew before. I'm not talking about my dad, I'm talking about the others. I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing I could have been able to stop them doing this to you. You're not a slave. Not to me."

Hermione could practically imagine him saying those words to her, as if she wasn't standing on the top of the spiral staircase of her 'sleeping chamber' blinking in blackness. He spoke with such sweet sincerity, she almost believed it was the old Sirius speaking to her, not the one she had known for twenty four hours.

"You don't even know me. You don't know who I am," she mumbled.

"Then tell me," he said simply. "Y'know what would be a wonderful start? Your name. I want to know your name."

She stifled a laugh, which he probably heard.

"Is that an order?"

"I believe it is, yes."

Being bossy obviously ran in the Black blood, as well as her own. She rolled her eyes amusedly and then remembered that he couldn't see.

"My name is Hermione."

"Hermione?" he whispered.

"Yep."

"Well, it's quite a mouthful, but I like it," Sirius informed her.

She could tell he was grinning. _Cheeky barstard. _

"Thank you," she murmured, trying to think of way to say this politely. "But Sirius… you should go. I'm not allowed to speak you unless the subject is cleaning," she gripped her hand as she spoke. "I don't want an excuse for her to break my other wrist."

There was a long silence, and it was only when she replayed what she said did she realise her mistake.

"_She_ broke your wrist?"

'She' being his god-awful mother. His voice was rough and hoarse, and through the wood she could see him now, tense, stiff, his jaw clenched… he was angry. Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut? She couldn't help but feel that in trying _not_ to create more tension between him and his family, she had made it twice as bad.

She was hesitant to say yes, but she did anyway. She heard him curse over and over, followed by a soft thump on the door, as if he had pushed himself flat against it. He spoke again, and his voice made her shiver. He sounded so close, like he was whispering right into her ear.

"Why didn't you tell me before? I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. She is an evil, evil woman with no heart. I won't let this happen. They aren't going to hurt you anymore, I'm not going to let them 'Mione!" Through his strong words she couldn't help but pick up that he called her 'Mione. Even his young self was stubborn enough to overlook her full name. "You're going to be safe, I'm going to get you food, and I'm going to get you out of here. I promise."

He spoke with a fierce desperation which reminded her of their first encounter when she was thirteen and he roared _'I WOULD HAVE DIED - I WOULD HAVE DIED THAN BETRAY MY FRIENDS!'_ It had the same effect on her.

She completely and utterly believed him.

"How exactly are you going to get me out?" she asked him, for she had no idea how she had even got here. The pocket watch must have performed some kind of rare form of magic, for no book she had ever read said that pocket watches could turn into time-turners on their own accord.

"I don't know, I'll think of a way. I can sneak into the kitchen and get you food though," he said it like it was easy. He was a Marauder after all. "I'll get some when they've all fucked off okay? Don't be scared 'Mione."

She shut her eyes in irritation.

"It's Hermione," she stubbornly reminded him, "and I'm not scared Sirius." She knew that young Sirius probably didn't believe her, for he wasn't to know that she was the brains of the Golden Trio who defeated Voldemort. "I've been through worse, I assure you…" _much worse. I was tortured by your cousin._ Before he could reply, she cut him off. "You should go now, I start cleaning after they finish breakfast."

"Alright love," he sighed, "I'll see you later."

When did he start calling her love? Did older Sirius do that? Him saying it to her felt oddly familiar, so maybe he did, she couldn't remember. She heard him knock a goodbye at the door. She smiled slightly and thanked merlin that she was trapped out of view, for she was surely blushing like a schoolgirl. Did older Sirius make her blush as well? Maybe he did that too. She shook her head and giggled uncharacteristically into her palm. _What was that man like?_ She listened to the clonk of his boots on the marble as he walked away, wondering if the older Sirius made her heart beat faster too.

She pushed the thought from her mind, but somewhere deep inside her, she knew that he did.

Thirty seconds later, she remembered that she was engaged.

To Ron.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Apologies for the shortness of the chapter, they will be much longer from here on. <em>**

**_In case you were wondering, my Hermione is Emma Watson, because she is flawlessly beautiful, and my Sirius is Gary Oldman. I'm not gonna go on about how perfect he is, because I could write twenty bloody essays on the topic. Just trust me, go on my profile and check the pictures of him - of both of them. Bring tissues in case you drool. You have been warned! _**

**_I have been quite astounded by the positive response this story is getting, so thanks a bunch and keep 'em coming! :) _**

**_Soph/Hollister9_**


	5. Chapter 5

For the two weeks that followed Sirius brought her food every day. There were times when Kreacher had grudgingly given her a meal, though it was such abysmal quality that Sirius threw it away and snuck her more food. She never asked him to, she would be hungry enough to gladly eat anything that was presented to her, but she quickly learned that Sirius really meant what he said about protecting her. He was _'sticking to his promise'_ he said, and with a topic like this, there was no point of arguing with him.

There wasn't many opportunities where they could have long conversations together like they had those first few days. She was always working in some part of the house, and under the strict monitoring Mrs Black had assigned him, Kreacher prowled the dark rooms and hallways watching her from the shadows. This meant that whenever she and Sirius were seen together, he had to disappear sharpish, otherwise the ever-loyal house-elf would go panting to his mistress, reporting that the slave was talking to members of the family – something she was forbidden to do. There had been a few nail biting times where they had nearly been caught, but somehow (and she honestly didn't know how), they hadn't been.

"You're hair looks nice."

At the sound of his voice she jumped and nearly fell off the chair she was standing on.

She clutched her thumping heart as he laughed. "Sirius!" she stage-whispered, "Don't scare me like that! What are you doing here?"

She was standing in one of the fifty aisles of the Black library, cleaning shelves. He walked further towards her, so he was standing directly below her chair. To her annoyance, he simply smiled at her and coiled his arms around her waist.

"You shouldn't even be here," she sighed as he lifted her to the ground. "After last time it's too-"

"Risky?" he finished for her. "How many times have I heard you say that before 'Mione? We haven't been caught yet, and if we do I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

She may have said that their meetings were too risky every time he came to see her, but the amount of times he had said he wasn't going to let anything happen to her was much more. The two lines were starting to become their normal way of greeting each other.

"It's not me I'm worried about," she mumbled and his lips perked into a small smile.

"I'll be fine," he assured her. Hermione thought she saw his hand twitch to stroke her cheek, but the moment passed before she considered if she was seeing things or not. "I was just in Hogsmeade with James," he said, clearing his throat, "and I – I bought you something. It's nothing big. I just… I thought it was a good idea – I mean – y'know - I wanted to get you…" he huffed at his inability to string a sentence and she grinned. It was rare to see Sirius stutter, and when he did it was thoroughly enjoyable and very sweet. "I'll give it to you later tonight, if I get the chance."

She shook her head, feigning confusion. "Why did you buy me something? You didn't have to…"

"I know, but I'm making up for the other day."

He was referring to two days ago; she was in the roof of the house cleaning and Sirius came to see her with food. They ended up mucking around and he accidentally knocked her sandwich out of her hand and onto the floor, and with all the dust that covered it, it was no longer edible.

She laughed and reached for his hand to squeeze. "Just forget about it Sirius, I told you, it's fine-"

"It's not fine! You hadn't eaten for a day and a half-!" He crossed his arms moodily. Clearly, he had been annoyed at himself ever since it happened.

"Yes but look-" she gestured to herself, "I'm okay now. You didn't have to get me a _present!_"

"I know," he said again. _But I wanted to. _His grey eyes met hers for the first time since his speech, and though he didn't elaborate, she knew that's what he was saying.

"Well thank you," she muttered, secretly shocked at his thoughtfulness.

He smiled and winked, the same old twinkle in his eye. "You're more than welcome poppet."

She made a disgusted sound and playfully shoved him. He knew she hated that word. "Don't call me poppet ever again Sirius!" she warned him. He merely laughed and strolled away.

* * *

><p>More days passed, and Hermione carried on with her duties, never complaining once. Her injured wrist was wrapped in cloth (much to Sirius's continued objection) to cushion the broken bone. Many times he had pulled out his wand to heal it, and every time she refused him, her defence being that he wasn't allowed to use magic outside school. Not being able to stop her pain affected him. You could see the frustration in his eyes, the anger, the hurt… it warmed her heart.<p>

She hadn't forgotten her attraction to him. It wasn't something she could easily _do_. It seemed to increase each time she looked at him. Everything she saw she loved. His hands were so masculine, his cologne was so rich and intoxicating, his barking laugh was contagious and his grey eyes were so completely perfect. All these things, plus his personality - the man he was, practically made him her drug - impossible to forget, and very addicting. Life was simple, it was just never easy, and unfortunately for her, she was engaged. Possible feelings for Sirius Black (the sixteen _and_ thirty six year old) wasn't fair on Ron and wasn't right in general.

She lay in her 'room' in total darkness. If only Sirius hadn't given her that bloody pocket watch in the first place, then she would have been in her own time, in a warm bed, with her fiancé whom she loved… she sighed and rolled over, willing sleep to come over her, when a knock at the door made her shift onto her elbow.

"'Mione!"

She bolted upright. Only one person called her that.

"Sirius?" she whispered, hurrying up the stairs to the door.

"Can I come in? I've got that present I bought you."

She swallowed. "I don't think it's a good idea. Your parents-"

"Are in bed. I watched Kreacher go to bed too, he always retires at midnight."

She shut her eyes and silently cursed him. Why did he have to be so damn stubborn? And why was it that whenever she tried to forget him he was trying to speak to her minutes after? It was so ironic that it seemed planned, like God up above was playing a sick joke on her.

"Alright," she finally said, and unlocked the door.

Pulling it back, he was standing in front of her in his usual attire: a tight white t-shirt, chinos, leather jacket and boots. She wondered if he actually owned a pair of pyjamas, because the Sirius in her time certainly didn't. He never wore anything but black boxers, allowing the mouth-watering view of his tasty toned body. And now, silly her, she couldn't get that delicious image out of her mind.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked her, stepping through and shutting the door behind him. The room once again plummeted to darkness, and she took the opportunity to reach into her bra for her wand and cast silencing charms. He followed her down the stairs.

"Just about a guy I used to know," she shrugged, reaching the bottom. "You remind me a bit of him."

"Oh, and there was me thinking I'm one of a kind." There was a hint of hurt in his voice which she shook her head at. "Who is this bloke?"

_You._

"It doesn't matter," she replied quickly, "so what's this thing you've got me?"

"Well, is there a light in here?" he asked, fumbling around for a few minutes searching. Hermione slid down the wall onto the floor, watching his silhouette. "Oh – I've found something!" he exclaimed, "It's a – wait a second – it's…oh." His voice dropped in disappointment. "It's a candle."

She laughed quietly as he lit it with his wand. The dim flicker of golden candlelight made the attic feel warm for the first time. He moved to sit next to her. They both stared at the flame, enjoying the pleasant silence until Sirius spoke again.

"I can't believe you're sleeping here," he murmured.

Her eyes didn't move from the candle. "Can't you?"

He glanced sideways at her. She could see his five o'clock shadow of stubble scattering his jaw and chin out of the corner of her eye, and God help her – he seemed impossibly more handsome than she had ever seen him. "What do you mean?" he spoke softly.

She chuckled. "Well, I hardly think a slave was going to get five-star accommodation, room service and breakfast in bed."

He laughed and she got butterflies. "Hmm, maybe not." He agreed, and quietened down again. He shook his head. "You know, I admire you, Hermione."

She broke her gaze from the flame and looked at him. "You called me my full name!" she said joyfully, "my actual name!" She smiled brightly then remembered what else he said and furrowed her eyebrows. "Why do you admire me?"

"Because you're stuck here, doing all these jobs shitty jobs with a broken wrist and yet you smile and laugh through the pain." His shiny eyes studied her face, his head cocking to the side as he did so. "Are you wonder woman?"

"Oh shut up Sirius!" she grinned, swatting him as he laughed his lovely bark-like laugh. "That would be like asking you if you're superman, and well – you're definitely not that."

"Oh, you little witch!" he exclaimed incredulously, "Perhaps you're not as admirable as I thought!"

"Perhaps you're even _more_ annoying than I thought," she bantered back, grinning wickedly.

He growled dangerously at her teasing, though his eyes were twinkling with amusement. "I'm taking back my present now. I'm too heartbroken – too wounded – hurts too much…" he rambled on, grinning when she snaked her arms around him, trying to grab the present that he was hiding behind his back.

"Sirius! Don't you dare-" she giggled, crawling towards him as he shuffled backwards.

"I do dare 'Mione love," he smirked, propping himself on one elbow as he lay down. "Did I mention the present was Honeydukes finest chocolate? The fudge, I've heard, is something of a dream-"

"Oh you dog!" she hissed, before scrambling over and pouncing on him. She had told him days ago that her favourite chocolate was Honeydukes fudge, and she hadn't had it in the weeks since she'd been here. The bugger had obviously remembered what she said and bought it purposefully. He roared with laughter as she rolled on top of him, and playfully tickled her ribs if she came too close to snatching the box.

He nipped her lightly on the neck, causing her to double over with breathy giggles. Somehow in their romping, she managed to squeeze her left hand through the gap between his arm and chest and grab what was rightfully hers.

"AHA!" she whooped, grinning smugly as he panted, "I've got the –! Oh," she muttered, examining the box. "It's all squished."

It wasn't till his arms wrapped round her hips did she realise that she was straddling him. Straddling him quite _intimately_ at that.

"And I'm all squished too," he said huskily, winking at her and looking blissfully happy about it.

She couldn't fight down the blush that was warming her cheeks. He simply smiled and raised his hand to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. "You look even prettier when you're blushing," he commented, his hand cupping her cheek.

Her heart pace quickened, and she had to swallow thickly to stop herself sighing. She never thought that she'd ever have Sirius Black underneath her in such a position, even if she _had_ dreamt about it… and he told her she was pretty again… forgetting him now was going to be impossible. But she had to. She had to. Clearing her throat, she remembered the chocolates in her hand and slid off of him.

"Thank you Sirius," she said in a matter-of-factly teacher-like tone, "for both the chocolates and the compliment, it was very thoughtful of you. Now if you'll excuse me, it's late, and I should be getting to sleep now-"

"Alright, that's fine," he shrugged, moving back against the wall and showing no sign of leaving. "Night then, love. Sweet dreams."

He saluted to her and reached for the chocolates, either unaware Hermione was staring at him or he was pretending ignorance. He popped a fudge cube into his mouth and chewed enthusiastically.

"Er…Sirius-?" she questioned him.

He jumped as if he had just realised she was still there. "'Mione! I thought you'd gone to sleep!"

She laughed and wagged her finger at him. "Alright mister you can drop the act right now, what are you doing eating my chocolates? You bought them for _me_."

"Yes I did. To eat _together_," he clarified. "So come here and talk to me."

He threw her a cube which she caught, and shaking her head in amused exasperation, she crawled back over to him. She pursed her lips at the close proximity - as soon as her back hit the wall his shoulder was pressed against hers and their legs were brushing.

She shovelled the cube into her mouth, groaning at how sweet and heavenly it tasted. "It's so good!" she mumbled with a mouthful of food. She didn't care how unladylike it was, and neither it seemed, did Sirius.

"You like it?"

Her eyes narrowed and she nodded very obviously. "Yes!"

He stifled a chuckle into his fist and coughed slightly. "So, what else do you like?" He caught her quirked eyebrow and hastily elaborated. "Y'know… what are your interests? What are you passionate about? What are your family like?" he threw a cube up into the air and caught it in his mouth, winking arrogantly. "Tell me about yourself 'Mione. I want to know everything."

"_Hermione_," she corrected, and he smiled broadly. "And a woman never reveals everything about herself, but I'll be wager with you. How about we play twenty questions? Ten each."

"I'll take whatever I can get," he replied eagerly, "so I can ask you anything? Like… what's your favourite colour?"

"Yes," she nodded, "and that's one."

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. "No!" he objected, shifting onto his knees to show his insistence. "Oh c'mon, that doesn't count! That was a rubbish one!"

She bit her lip and smiled sweetly. "Oh well!" she patted his knee, secretly loving how worked up she could get him. "And for the record, it's maroon. My turn!"

Two hours and forty seven minutes and an empty box of chocolates later, they had reached the last question. So far, they had discovered that:

Hermione's parents were dentists who worked in Australia. Sirius had three sugars in his tea and his coffee black. Hermione prefers winter to summer, because she 'isn't a bikini kind of girl'. Sirius's favourite place is muggle London. Hermione's shampoo is apple flavoured (or it was before she became a slave). Aside from his wand, Sirius regards his motorbike as his most prized possession. Hermione is a Sagittarius. Sirius's favourite band is the Beatles, and his favourite song of theirs is 'Yesterday', (at which she poked fun at him about as it was one of their most common songs about heartbreak, only for Sirius to make fun of her in return because she revealed she didn't have a favourite song). Sirius's biggest turn on body-wise is 'a pair of tits big enough to fit into his hand', and 'a nice arse', only for him to receive a well-deserved smack from her. Hermione's first kiss was a boy who lived on her road called Phillip and she was five. Sirius admitted that he likes to know a girl before he _gets to know her_. Hermione was currently wearing white lace French knickers. Sirius wears boxers instead of briefs because it 'gives him room to adjust'. Hermione had never had whipped cream licked off her, and 'quite frankly, she didn't want to'. Sirius's favourite dessert is apple pie. Hermione's best friends are Harry, Ron and Ginny. And Sirius's best friends are James, Remus and Peter.

"Okay, question twenty," Sirius declared, rubbing his hands together excitedly. It was nearing 3am now, and yet he was still wide awake. "Right, 'Mione prepare yourself babe," he beamed as she lazily rolled her eyes at him and rested her head on his shoulder. "You better stay awake," he warned her, watching her eyes drift closed. "_Hermione!_"

"What?" she grumbled, stifling a yawn. "Sirius I'm knackered!"

"I know, but just stay awake for this last question alright?"

She weakly nodded, and he took a deep breath.

"Have you ever been in love?" he murmured in her ear.

"In love?" she mumbled, peeking one eye open at him. He nodded. "In love as in _in_ love? Or do you mean in-love-just-loving someone?"

He shook his head in bewilderment and laughed. "Aren't they the same thing?"

"No, they're completely different," she said, sitting up with a look of upmost seriousness. "You can love someone, but you might not be in love with them. You just care for them. Like… for example…" she thought of the first person to come to her head, besides him. "So, I could love Kreacher, but I wouldn't be _in_ love with him…"

Sirius slapped his hand to his knee and barked with laughter once more. "Well, good," he coughed, "I'm glad you're not in love with a house elf."

She shut him up with a withering look. "It was an example!"

She shifted back to rest her head on his shoulder again, like she was before he started to get smart with her. Her eyes started to flicker close again, and she felt his cheek rest against her temple.

"So have you 'Mione?" he whispered, his voice breaking through her sleep for the umpteenth time. "Have you ever been in love?"

He felt her shrug. "Yes."

He frowned slightly. "You _have_?"

"Yeah," came her muffled reply.

Sirius felt his throat dry and body tense all in less than a second and he didn't know why. It was overwhelming, powerful, and unexplainable – something entirely new to him that he had never felt before. He pushed the feeling away and focussed on his thumb drawing circles in her shoulder.

"Who with?" he asked.

When she didn't reply, he peered down at her. "Hermione?"

She was asleep. Her warm breath blew into the crook of his neck, and a strand of hair slid from behind her ear over her eyes. He smiled and leant in, battling inside himself whether it would be okay to kiss her or not. In the end, he did. He pressed his lips to her temple. When he pulled back, he watched her sleep. He wondered how sleeping against a concrete wall could ever feel as comfortable as it did in that moment. There was no doubt in his mind why that was. Wrapping his arms tighter around Hermione, Sirius fell asleep a minute later.

* * *

><p><em><strong>So I have been completely AMAZED and so so grateful about all your reviews for this story. I'm going to start replying to everyone who writes now too, because you people are just too bloody nice to not reply to :) I will be doing at least one more update before Christmas, perhaps more if I have the time. Thank you again!<strong>_

_**Love Soph/Hollister9**_

_**P.S This has nothing to do with anything but I am really angry that Gary Oldman wasn't nominated for a Golden Globe! He is an amazing actor and deserves it so much :( not to mention I'm in love with him and he's more than three times my age. Anyway, I AM FUMING MORE THAN A FUCKING DRAGON.**_

_**On that note, until next time guys :)**_


	6. Chapter 6

The morning after, Hermione woke in the same position she fell asleep in – leaning against the wall with Sirius, her head resting in the crook of his neck and his on her temple. She blinked her eyes open and looked around. The lit candle burning bright hours before had burnt out and was a mere waxy stub, but everything else was the same: dark, dirty, and damp. She made a mental note never to complain about her bedroom at home ever again. It was luxury. This was a shithole. There was no other way to put it. A warm hand rubbed down her lower back, drawing her attention to the man beside her.

"You up babe?" he murmured through closed eyes.

She yawned and laughed at the same time. "Babe…?" she said, shaking her head. "Really, Sirius, where do you get these things from? What makes you think you have the right to call me anything but Hermione?"

He smiled slightly and patted her back. "Since we just slept together… _babe._"

"Shut up, _prick_," she replied, smiling in spite of herself and knowing he would revel in the banter.

She watched, fondly, as he coughed his morning sounds. He was right. They had slept together, and she couldn't deny - not even to herself, that it was the most comfortable night of sleep she had since she arrived. But one night of sleeping in his arms wasn't going to break her. She already had the message drummed in her mind: it meant nothing, and all the feelings she had been fighting off – the whole thing - was so incredibly wrong. If being the fact that she was a girl from the future and he was boy in the past wasn't enough, he was a sixteen year old boy-turned-man and she an engaged twenty-one year old woman.

"It won't happen again I assure you," she said, and before he had even woken up properly, she was standing and stretching wide like a bear, up to start work for the day. Or morning rather.

"Mmm, wanna bet on that treacle?"

"No, because I already know I'll win. And Sirius-?" she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Stop with the names. Treacle? I am not a type of pudding! Honestly…"

Still, she found herself laughing.

"I know you're not, but you sure are tasty," he said, and chuckled when Hermione gasped. He had to admit, he thought himself hilarious. "And where do you think you're going?" he added, rubbing his eyes open and realising that she was no longer next to him, but walking _away_ from him.

She glanced back at him as she tied her hair up in a messy bun. "To start chores," she replied. "Thank you for the chocolates though Sirius. Last night, I… I had fun."

"I'm glad you did," he smiled. "Because I did too. Actually, it was the most fun I've ever had in this house in my whole life…" his warm eyes flickered over her face. "Same time tonight yeah? I'll be at the door waiting."

"Yeah," she said, rushing up the stairs. She froze and looked back, realising what he had just said. "Wait – what? No, Sirius, you can't. Last night was an exception; it is _not_ going to happen again."

When Sirius seemed unfazed by this, she introduced the scolding finger.

"I repeat: it is not going to happen again-"

"_SLAVE!_"

They looked at each other, their eyes showing opposite emotions. His were twinkling with amusement, no doubt smug about outsmarting her, and hers were leaking with frustration, like she knew she had lost but wasn't willing to accept it.

He grinned easily. "And _I'll_ repeat: same time tonight… _babe._"

He winked at her and she crossed her arms in a huff before turning on her heel and flurrying out the door. She headed to the drawing room, muttering furiously under her breath about the arrogant, annoying dog who refused to take no for an answer.

_Babe. _

In her mind the scolding session had already started. Allowing him to stay in her room all night, allowing him to call her words like 'babe' and 'love' and 'treacle'? – words which Ron – her _fiancé_ - called her (only when he was drunk, he couldn't pull them off when he was sober), allowing him to cuddle her and keep her warm like he did… it was all wrong.

So why did it feel so_ right?_

She didn't stop cursing him until she grabbed the mop and got to work on the floor that seemed to stay forever unclean. She worked non-stop the whole day, and having got very little to sleep last night, her energy was so low that she had trouble keeping her eyes open. A number of times she had seen Kreacher prowl the house spying on her, seen the way he bounced on his toes and smiled gleefully at the way she scrubbed the floor with a slackened hand… The elf was going to run to his mistress and tell her how appalling her work had been and she would be punished for it. But on the brink of exhaustion, Hermione really couldn't bring herself to care. She would deal with the consequences of her less than adequate work tomorrow. Right now, after working a full seventeen hours straight, she was going to drag herself back to her chambers and fall right to sleep.

* * *

><p>Sirius gently closed the door of his bedroom and, as silently as he could, he began to make his way across the landing and down the stairs. His father had been away for a few days for business reasons – viewing properties in Paris or something… Sirius wasn't really listening when he had explained it to him, and his mother and brother had retired for bed a few hours back. It was a few minutes past twelve which meant that Kreacher had gone up too. So now, after waiting all day to see her, finally he could slip away to see Hermione.<p>

"'Mione," he murmured, knocking lightly on her door. "It's me. Open up."

He was expecting an exasperated huff, a load of insults, a stubborn refusal, but there was nothing. He furrowed his eyebrows and tried again.

"'Mione? Are you awake love?" He knocked a bit harder this time. "Let me in."

Silence.

"Hermione! You can't be asleep, I told you I'd be here, and here I am! _Open the door_-_!_"

He had been looking forward to seeing her ever since she had left him this morning, and now the prospect that he may not be spending the night with her like he had hoped - or seeing her at all - rather upset him.

"_Hermione!_"

Nothing.

He sighed heavily and leant against the doorframe. "Alright look, love. I'll stop calling you babe, I'll stop calling you love, I'll – I'll stop with the names altogether… just – just let me in. Please Hermione. If not to talk to me then at least show me that you are okay."

Still, there was no response, and he found himself shaking. If she was awake, she would never have left him waiting like that, especially without replying. But how could she be sleeping on that cold concrete floor? He swallowed and lifted a quivering hand up to touch the wood. Something must have happened to her…

"Hermione? Baby?" he croaked. "Please tell me you are alright."

There was a shuffle of footsteps behind him and he whipped around, his heart racing. Kitted out in his black dressing gown, striped pyjamas and slippers, it was Regulus, looking very smug and very amused.

"What are you doing up?" Sirius shot at him. "Got nightmares I suppose?"

The amusement dropped from Regulus's face for a second, and he glared at him. It was impossible to say which face showed more hatred. "I came down to get a drink, but I don't think I need one now," he sniggered as if it was the funniest thing ever. "Oh dear lord I was not expecting this! Hard man Sirius trying to talk to the mud blood how adorable!"

He looked damn well over the moon.

Clenching his jaw, Sirius stepped away from the door under the stairs. He could only imagine how he must have looked, pressed up against it begging her to let him in. Let's just hope his prick of a brother hadn't heard what he had been saying…

"Oh Hermione, my love, are you okay? Please let me in baby, I'm in love with you and I want to fuck your dirty little arse until the sun comes up…" he sneered, and Sirius hissed viciously at him, shaking with fury. Obviously, he had heard everything.

"You shut your fucking mouth about her," he growled threateningly and stepped forwards. "If I hear you say one more thing, I swear to merlin I will not hesitate to shove your smug little face _up_ your _arse_-"

Regulus raised his hands in innocence. "Now, now Sirius calm down, I'm agreeing with you darling! I mean I can't say I wouldn't… she is our slave after all…tape her mouth up she'd be a lovely treat-"

Sirius surged forwards with a roar and thrust him hard against the wall, holding him up by the scruff of his neck as he looked him straight in the face. He had never felt more angry in his life.

"What bone do you want me to break first little brother?" he seethed, grabbing him tighter. "Your nose, your arm, your leg or your back?"

A flicker of fear passed through Regulus's eyes. "You wouldn't-" he began.

"Oh wouldn't I? HERMIONE IS A HUMAN BEING JUST THE SAME AS YOU ARE, AND SHE'S A BETTER PERSON THAN YOU WILL EVER BE! SHE'S – NOT – A – SLAVE!" he bashed him against the wall on each word. "If I hear you talk about her in that way again, god help me it will be the last thing you ever do," he leant closer to him so they were an inch apart. "You got that?"

Regulus managed a nod.

"Now, why don't you go and run off back to your mummy Reggie? You suck up to her so much you would make a better hoover than you do human." He loosened his grip on his collar and let him fall to the floor. "That's it. Fuck off."

Regulus scrambled up from the floor and legged it back up the stairs so fast that he tripped up on the third step up, causing Sirius to bark with laughter at him. When he had disappeared from view, he moved back to the door under the stairs, which was… open.

"'Mione?"

She stepped out of the darkness and into the hallway, bed hair like a lion's mane and her eyes bigger and browner than ever. He felt his throat tighten at the sight of her.

"Sirius?"

"Oh thank god you're alright," he breathed out, running towards her and pulling her into a hug. It was the first hug they had ever had, and it felt wonderful.

"I was only sleeping," she muttered into his shoulder. "No need to get so worried. What were you arguing about with Regulus?"

He peered down at her. "You – you heard?"

She nodded. "You woke me up. I think the appropriate term to describe it would be rather loud."

"Right," he chuckled. "Sorry love."

She laughed at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling with amusement. "Don't apologise, I'm glad you did. It's quite cute hearing you get all hot and bothered because your brother insulted me. Thank you but…" she poked his chest and her voice turned solemn. "Don't do it again. It was of nice of you to do but… I don't need a knight in shining Sirius. I can protect myself."

She stepped back from his arms and walked back to her door. "Goodnight."

All he could remember thinking was that he didn't want her to go.

"Sirius, what are you doing?"

He had his arm held up against the door, stopping her from closing it. "Please don't leave," he whispered. She was staring at him in bewilderment and he sighed. He didn't want to sound so sincere that it would scare her, so he dropped his eyes to the floor in case they gave him away. "I can't hack it alone. I hate this house, I hate the people in it, I hate what they're doing to you… I hate everything. And - and when I'm with you, my life seems easier… for some reason."

She continued to stare at him, her eyes flickering over his face to see if he was lying or not. Eventually she nodded and she stopped him before he got to ahead of himself. "_BUT_ - we're going straight to sleep."

"That's fine," he beamed and gestured to the stairs. "After you treacle."

"I told you Sirius! I am not a _pudding_!"

* * *

><p>"W-what is you saying Master Regulus sir?"<p>

"I _said_ that Sirius has been speaking to the mud blood slave!" Regulus replied impatiently, "they have been communicating to each other all the time when you haven't been looking. If you ask me, the filthy girl has brainwashed him to call her 'babe' and 'love' and things like that…" Regulus leant in closer and continued. "You _must_ tell mother Kreacher… especially about the brainwashing part… she is a slave, it's time she starts behaving like one. You run and you tell mother before the mud blood starts work tomorrow morning. You hear me Kreacher?"

Kreacher's tennis ball eyes were wide and watering with bursting excitement. "Yes!" he cried. "Yes master Regulus! I shall!"

Regulus nodded curtly and turned on his heel towards his bedroom, satisfied that he was going to get his revenge on his brother: by hurting one of the things he most cared about.

* * *

><p>"'Mione...?"<p>

She made a hum of acknowledgement.

"When I get you out of here, I'm going to buy you a whole trunk full of Honeydukes fudge," he murmured in her ear, as he pulled her close to his side.

They were lying stretched out on the floor, their legs running alongside each other's as they lay on their sides, facing each other. Hermione had said they were to go straight to sleep, but of course they hadn't. They spent the last hour and a half in very much the same way as they had done the previous evening - asking questions about each other with lots of teasing banter and playful romps (though Hermione made sure she didn't straddle him again). And now Hermione really was exhausted. If she wasn't before, she definitely was now. Sirius propped himself up on his elbow, watching her fondly as her eyelids fluttered closed.

"Is that a promise?" she muttered.

"Yes."

He stroked a hair from her face, and gazed at her, his eyes soft in secret admiration. She wasn't wearing a scrap of make-up (unlike all the other girls he went for at Hogwarts), and yet she was so beautiful, and she made it effortless - a look that some girls he knew would kill for. He was completely and utterly in awe of her.

"Sweet dreams 'Mione," he whispered, hesitating for a split second before kissing her cheek. She probably hadn't even felt it, for when he drew back to look at her she was breathing lightly and fast asleep.

Her hair still smelt of apple shampoo after all this time...

* * *

><p>The following morning she woke wrapped up in Sirius's arms. She never understood how they always fell asleep against the wall and somehow through the course of the night they ended up flat on the floor, Hermione practically lying atop of Sirius as he cuddled her to him. Or maybe last night was different… maybe she had collapsed on the floor in exhaustion and he laid next to her… whatever it was, she could feel his slow, deep breathing and the rise of his chest as she lay against him, acting as her pillow.<p>

"Sirius, I'm going now…" she yawned, pushing herself up.

"No," he murmured, eyes still closed. He wrapped his arms tighter around her as if refusing to let her go. "You're not moving."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, surprised with his protectiveness over her, and secretly very pleased. "Sirius don't be so silly. You know I have to. Let me go."

It was six o'clock, the time that she was meant to be up and starting her chores. She could hear the floorboards creaking upstairs as Mrs Black padded around getting dressed; it would be a matter of minutes before she would be down expecting to see the slave hard at work, not in a tangle of limbs having spent the night with her eldest son. The second night in row. It was a wonder neither Kreacher nor her had found out yet.

"You don't _have_ to do anything," he muttered back, rolling half on top of her to stop her moving. "Fuck her 'Mione. Stay here with me-"

"Oh yeah, that's a great idea," she mumbled, staring helplessly up at the ceiling. She heard him whisper 'I know' and she rolled her eyes and pushed one hand against his chest. "Right Sirius," she said sternly, "I'm going to ask you one more time. If I don't go you know what'll happen-"

"And you know that I'll protect you!" he retorted.

She groaned and struggled of his grasp, which proved to be much harder than she thought. She couldn't be bothered to answer him. He knew how she felt about him saying things like that… hadn't she told him last night that she didn't want a knight in shining armour? Sometimes, he was just too stubborn for his own good. She was sure he would say so was she, but she didn't stay long enough to ponder the subject.

She shut the door of her chambers and tiptoed around the corner to grab the cleaning equipment, ready to start dusting the shelves and mopping the floors in the Drawing room. Mop and duster in hand, she entered the gloomy room where the Black family tree tapestry hang, dropped to her knees and started scrubbing.

When she had finished that (at long last) she picked herself up and headed upstairs to start on making the bed sheets. But before she could take one step, Kreacher was stepping out of the shadows and in front of her, blocking her way past. His dark tennis-ball eyes stared unblinkingly into hers as he cleared his throat.

"Mistress Black has a message for you. There been a change of job for you today," he announced, a cruel smile spreading his face. "Mistress want you to head to the pantry…"

"Her majesty said I was not to touch the food," Hermione interrupted.

"You not to speak unless ordered to!" the elf fired up angrily, his wrinkled, large face twisting in fury. "No food again, vermin! Not nice food anyway," he said, erupting into wheezes of laughter.

Hermione watched in repulsion as wet tears leaked from his eyes. In her time, she was fiercely loyal to _S.P.E.W_ (society for the promotion of elfish welfare), but in that moment, she could see why most witches and wizards did not feel the same. "Mistress want you to go to pantry and check food too old to eat," he choked out, still laughing humorously as he watched her curtsy and head off to the kitchen.

Ignoring the elf's sniggers, she unlocked the door to the pantry and slipped in with no objection. Checking food's use-by dates was far better than crawling around on all fours scrubbing a floor that seemed impossible to get clean. She had never been in the Black family's pantry before, and looking around, it was the size of the girl's Gryffindor bedroom chambers at Hogwarts, which had four poster-beds inside. There was shelves and shelves of all kinds of food – rice, wholemeal and plain flour, sugar, boxes of eggs, potatoes, even muesli, tins of tuna, mushrooms, and to Hermione's disgust, a huge stack of raw fish that was letting off a foul odour.

Apart from the smell and having to climb high shelves to check the date on the food packages, the job was fairly easy-going. The food which was off and needed to be thrown away she sorted into one pile, and the food which was still in use she kept on the shelves. There was more 'off' food than there was edible, as the heavy tray of fish she slid along the floor was two weeks out of date (which is why the room smelt of rotting corpses). When she had finished, she brushed herself off and made her way to the door, deciding it would be wise to change the sheets on the beds on the second floor. She pushed down the door handle, and to her confusion, nothing happened. She did it again. And again. The door wouldn't open, and she didn't have the keys. Someone must have locked it.

"Kreacher?" she called, knocking lightly on the door. "May I be let out please? You must have accidentally locked the door, and I must start changing the bed sheets upstairs."

"It was no accident," Kreacher replied, his voice sounding creepily close.

She frowned and cleared her throat to reply, until something tapped her leg and she turned around sharply. Sitting on the food pile she had just created was the old house elf himself.

"You not doing the bed sheets, I done them," he said proudly, then smiled the same cruel smile he had before. "This the dirty food?" he kicked the sack of flour he was sitting on, wrinkling his nose at the fish.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, "Would you like me to put it in the rubbish bin?"

"Rubbish bin?" Kreacher repeated, his eyes widening in misunderstanding. "This not going to the rubbish." At Hermione's frown he peeled over in a fit of laughter again. "Not going to rubbish," he said again, "Mistress not wanting to waste food."

She frowned, not seeing where this was going. "Then where is it going to go?"

Kreacher smiled again. "You is to eat it."

"Excuse me?" she asked politely, believing that he had not said the words she thought he had. They must have been joking. _Surely…_

Kreacher bared his yellow, chipped and rotting teeth at her. "You is to – _eat_ – it."

Her eyes swivelled to the enormous pile of food, shaking her head in disbelief. "But it's out of date; to eat it I would become seriously ill, maybe even-"

"Die," Kreacher finished for her, his eyes watering with excitement. "Mistress knows. Mistress want you to eat it all. She says you have five days. If not eaten, she will kill you anyway."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Oooh. Eating rotting fish that's two weeks off fancy that... *GAGS* <strong>_

_**Hope you enjoyed the chapter! oh and HAPPY NEW YEAR! I know it's late.. but I've only just woken up from a two day hangover, so I'd say I'm doing pretty well :) **_

**_Reviews are much appreciated, any questions I will reply to, as I did last time. -Soph x_**


	7. Chapter 7

Breakfast that morning was a very awkward affair right from the beginning when Sirius strolled into the kitchen wearing his usual muggle clothes: his leather jacket, charcoal shirt and black slacks low enough for his maroon boxers to peek out at the waistband. That – and merely being in his disgraceful presence – had his mother cursing him with just about every negative thought and insult under the sun.

Regulus wasn't any better either; his brother had clearly been replaying last night's encounter in his mind, because his smoke grey eyes were transfixed on him as if willing for him to die then and there. Rather than scare him which was obviously little Reg's intention, it amused Sirius to no end and he teasingly granted him a few winks for his effort.

"A+ for effort darling, no doubt about it," Sirius mouthed to him, smirking very smugly the more pissed off Regulus became. "It's a shame you're about as scary as a six year old girl with pigtails." He shook with silent laughter at his own jab and made a show of winding his middle finger up at him, laughing even more when Regulus pushed his bowl of porridge away from him and crossed his arms in a raging strop.

Still chuckling under his breath, Sirius returned his attentions to his own porridge, which was a damn sight different to his brother's. Where Regulus's looked sweet, sugary and smooth textured, his was so watery that it was practically milk with the way it dripped from his spoon and splashed back in the bowl with a plop that made him heave. Not only that, he was sure Kreacher had 'accidentally' poured half the salt shaker into it as well, causing him to shiver involuntarily from the bone each time the bitter spoon touched his lips.

_Accident my arse._

"Prick," Sirius muttered.

Regulus' eyes rose to meet his with loathing and Walburga snapped her head in his direction, in very much the same way. "I'm sorry? Did you say something?"

"Yeah. Porridge is top – bloody – notch," he said through quick chews. If they had caught the obvious sarcasm in his voice, no one commented on it.

Unlike Reg, Sirius was forced to eat this shit that was apparently (but really wasn't) _food. _

And he wasn't prepared to.

"Where's Kreacher? I must congratulate him on his talent to make meals more nauseating than his face," he lightly remarked, and stood abruptly from his chair before his mother forced him to remain seated. "Goodbye you miserable bunch of sods!" he exclaimed merrily, and strolled away with natural swagger you couldn't imitate.

"Don't…you… dare!" Mrs. Black hissed through gritted teeth. Her near black eyes watched him leave the table and saunter down the hallway with a deathly glint so frightening it was nightmare material. "You walk out that door and you are going to regret ever having left with the pain I will inflict upon you. Mark – my - words."

Sirius barked a laugh at her poor threat and waved a fleeting goodbye over his shoulder before opening the door. He was gone with a slam and after his departure silence followed. Kreacher broke it a minute later when he appeared with a crack.

"Mistress, mistress!" he croaked, his voice high with happiness, "the mud blood is in pantry, she eating stale food! She look sick already! She going to die!" he sounded so gleeful that a ghost of a smile came and passed on Walburga's face.

"Finally, some good news," she drawled. "It is expected of course. The mud blood has no other choice but to do as I say. Her role on earth is so powerless that I may as well make use of her to dispose of waste food, and then eventually dispose of her," she casually added with a cackle her niece would be proud of. "It shall be interesting to see how many fish she will get through before she dies. I daresay one will be enough to finish her off."

"I predict she will be dead within the first bite," Regulus declared with a little laugh, and his mother looked at him fondly before laughing along. It took mere seconds and all three of them were laughing - the house elf along with them, his delighted wheezes of breath so loud that it echoed and so heavy it would have steamed ten mirrors with condensation.

In her dark, damp and dingy cupboard misty with silhouettes of high shelves with rotting food, Hermione looked up from where she lay and raised her chin to the air, listening to the chilling sound. It rang in her ears like an on-going alarm, and she could sense the elation and pure bliss they were feeling, knowing that they were laughing because she was slowly being tortured, and laughing harder because they all knew that Sirius had no idea.

She wasn't naïve enough to think he wouldn't turn into an absolute madman when he found out. He would. He hadn't tried to hide his protectiveness over her, and going by his reaction to her broken wrist when he had only just met her, now that he knew her well he was going to be knocking things over, tearing things in his path senselessly without a care in the world when he discovered that his mother was slowly but surely killing her.

But she _knew_ that she wasn't going to die, and she knew that _he_ wasn't going to either, because in her time they were both still alive, still arguing, still staying up late together just like they were in this time. And for that reason, she didn't want him to come to her rescue. She could handle herself - quite comfortably at that. She didn't want – or need – a knight in shining armour as she had repeatedly told him. Though of course, when she had said those words to him, being Sirius, he had paid about as much attention to her as he did to Snape.

None.

Though she didn't want him to help her in any way and make things worse with his family - it seemed inevitable he would, so the best (and only) conciliation she could think of was to hope to the heavens that he wouldn't find out, then that way no one would get hurt… apart from her of course.

* * *

><p>Sirius had taken the Knight bus into Diagon Alley and stood, casually leaning his back against the window of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour as he waited for his best friend. He'd spotted a number of people in his year shopping in the sun, including Frank Longbottom with his parents browsing in Quality Quidditch Supplies, one his fellow Gryffindor mates and Marlene McKinnon, also a Gryffindor with shiny black hair and a tall, slender frame waiting under a brightly coloured umbrella outside a café. She had a knack for Arithmacy, as well as a knack for kissing with her eyes open; something he had discovered the month before when they shared a lip-lock in the library.<p>

He gave her lopsided grin and wink as she past him, but didn't go over to chat. He had become too distracted with a familiar head of ruffled jet black hair and round glasses. Seeing him approaching, Sirius's little smirk grew wide, even more so after catching the clothes he was wearing - or rather, the clothes that he _wasn't _wearing.

James Potter - class joker, man's man, ladies man, man about town - was topless, wearing only black jeans with a white polo flung over his shoulder.

And, like Sirius, he flashed the Diagon Alley shoppers a cheeky preview of his silk black boxers peeking over the top. If Sirius didn't know him, he would've thought the boy had just rolled out of bed his hair was sticking up – out - _everywhere_ so much. The pale complexion of his chest was even paler in the sunshine, and yet he was smirking charmingly, totally blind to the fact he resembled a ghost. He seemed smitten with the idea he had it all going for him.

"Lily said she was meeting Marlene here today," he grinned, shrugging coolly. The explanation said it all.

Sirius took one look at him and barked with laughter. "You're a handsome bloke Prongs. I guarantee old ladies with walking sticks will be eyeing you up, but Evans on the other hand…" he took a shaky breath in, as if trying to work out the best way to tell him. "Look, I've got to break it to you mate: Lily ain't loving the Potter Package."

James laughed and seized him by the shoulders, shaking him. "She will one day Pads, she will one day!" they had had this conversation many times before. "What's not to love about the Potter Package?" he was talking animatedly and used his fingers to count his many attributes. "I'm most skilful on a broom, I'm practically drowning in money, I'm really nice – I always steal cakes and muffins from the kitchens for Gryffindor people don't I?" Sirius rolled his eyes amusedly and agreed yes he did. "I got more O's in my OWLS than Snivellus has got friends, I've got perfect looks even Prince bloody Charming couldn't get-"

"You're really modest," Sirius chipped in, a shit-eating grin on his lips. James agreed whole-heartedly and counted off another finger on his hand and then heard what he said. "What-? OI!"

Sirius roared with laughter and dived left to avoid a punch. However he couldn't avoid the rugby tackle and they ended up on a heap on the floor, rolling on top of each other play fighting like a pair of six year olds. Eventually – after another five minutes of punches and hair pulls – they heaved themselves up off the floor, stretched and smiled at one another in thanks for good bit of manly fighting.

Then they grabbed each other and pulled in for a long, tight, brotherly reunion hug.

"I've missed you man," James sighed, giving him a thump on the back.

"I've missed you too sweetheart. I've cried every night, it's been awful," Sirius replied with a squeaky high voice and an audible sniff. He received another smack.

They started walking side by side heading automatically for Quality Quidditch Supplies. "How is everything at the mad house? Walburga still going through her menopause?"

Sirius grinned. The two of them had always put down Mrs Black's horrific moods to that stage in a woman's life where she hits fifty, looks in the mirror and realises that they're no longer young and beautiful but old, grumpy and in the case of Sirius's mum - a spiteful bitch. He chuckled and pushed a hand through his silky locks, "She's never come bloody _off_ her menopause James. She's been on it her whole life, because she's been a heartless woman her whole life. But, apart from her and Kreacher – the slimy git… its bearable now. My dad's still in Paris for that business thing, he should be back in a few days, so it's not too bad."

James glanced sideways at him and stopped walking. "Bearable? Not too bad?" he looked stunned. "Are you going to stay there?"

Sirius glanced amusedly back at him and pointed to a girl up the street sitting out on a table outside a café. She had long glossy red hair, and was wearing green strappy top that matched her eyes. "Evans is there mate," he drawled, giving him a wink and a gloating smirk. James forgot he had ever asked him question and practically galloped over to her.

She wasn't alone.

"Ah, so you were meeting up with Evans McKinnon," Sirius said, plopping himself down next to her with a lazy arrogance. James was on the other side of him, having taken the chair next to Lily and edged himself as close to her as possible.

"Yep," she said, smiling as she observed his cool character. "I should've guessed you were meeting James." She and Lily exchanged grins like they had remembered something. "Never without one another are you?"

"I'm thinking we have a bit of bro-mance going on," Lily observed, nodding her head teasingly.

"Yeah we're gay," Sirius nodded back, smiling charmingly and looking dashing. "So since we're not attracted to women whatsoever, can we feel your tits?"

The girls mouths dropped, somewhere between amusement and being damn right offended. Though they seemed more offended. James roared with laughter, slapping his knee and banging the table, which seemed to humiliate them further. No longer amused, they kept glancing to James's laughing, to Sirius's smirking and exchanging disgusted looks that spoke the words 'oh my goodness! What _twats!'_

"He's joking," James managed to choke out, "he's bloody joking. Just a joke ay Pa – Sirius?" He smacked him on the arm when he remained silent. "You didn't mean to offend these beautiful ladies did you?"

"Not to offend," he confirmed cheerfully, looking between Lily and Marlene's tremendously pissed off faces and rolling his eyes dramatically. "For the love of merlin I was being _nice!_ You two couldn't spot a compliment if it walked up to you and-"

"Groped your breasts," James added with a twinkle in his eye. Sirius barked with laughter this time, patting his mate on the back as if congratulating him for saying a cracking joke.

"I do love a girl with a nice pair of tits," Sirius commented lightly and James whole heartedly agreed, nodding to Lily and murmuring that hers were "lovely, just lovely".

Lily's eyes flashed menacingly and she clenched her jaw like she was hugely trying to contain her anger. It was common news among the Hogwarts students that Lily Evans was not one to cross, and this was why.

"You two unbelievable," she snapped, glaring at James. "You think you're so flipping hilarious don't you? Think you can stroll around school thinking you own the place, stroll around here thinking you own the place, wearing your shirt off like you think you're God's bloody gift…"

Having heard the same argument between Lily and James for years, Sirius sighed heavily and stole the café menu from Marlene's hands and examined it, muttering under his breath how terrible it was that they didn't have steak.

"She's talking to you as well Sirius," Marlene said in mounting annoyance. "Or doesn't it apply to you now? Actually, I think you beat James for the prize of most arrogant man on planet Earth, so you should be fucking listening!"

Sirius lowered the menu to the table, looking at her with mild surprise. "What's with the language? It was a joke! Oh for fu-" he cut himself off abruptly to avoid hypocrisy and smiled at her. She didn't smile back. "Anyway, I'm going to get some fish and chips," he announced, clapping his hands together and looking round for a waiter. "What's everyone having? I'll pay."

"Don't change the subject," she hissed. "Why do you have to be so crude? It's disgusting. Admit you're both dickheads and we'll move on, and you can pay for our meals and then go away."

Sirius stared at her with his mouth agape. "You're over reacting so much it's unreal," he said, shaking his head in disbelief and looking to James for back up and finding that Lily was having the same argument with him.

"I don't think I am," Marlene bit back. "Actually, I don't think you can ever be nice to a girl without using her. I don't think you care about any girls either. You use every girl you've ever known! We kissed last month and yet you call me 'McKinnon'!" she exclaimed hysterically, "I mean what the hell is wrong with you?"

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and dropped his eyes to the table. It took a lot for him to trust someone, to care deeply for someone, but Marlene was wrong. He cared for one girl. Unconditionally.

"You're wrong," he muttered, so quietly she snapped a 'what?' in response.

His voice was soft as he remembered how she felt in his arms the night before; laughing that warm throaty laugh he loved, strands of hair falling into her eyes in that innocently sexy way that only she could pull off. His fingers twitched.

"You're wrong," he said again, and stood up. "Sorry if I upset you… Marlene."

Although he could see she was trying not to, she couldn't stop the little smile.

James squinted behind his glasses, having only noticed Sirius get up from the table because of five minutes heated bickering with Lily. It was all coming from her of course. He didn't care two shits if she was cursing him to the sun and back. He just sat there, gazing longingly at her lips as they moved.

"Pad- Sirius? Where are you off to mate?"

Sirius ran a hand through his hair absently. For the first time in his life, he wanted to go home. He wanted nothing more.

"I'm going to get some fudge from Honeydukes then I'm going to get back," he said, rummaging in his jacket pocket to check he had change.

James stared from Lily to Sirius and back again. "But we've only just got here Sirius," he laughed, but his eyes widened in warning, "we're eating lunch with Evans and McKinnon. You're paying _remember?_" He nodded eagerly, as if to encourage his best mate to do the same.

Sirius merely grinned and shook his head.

"Stay here with the ladies yeah? They won't bite," he chuckled, looking from Lily to Marlene and sincerely hoping they wouldn't. "Anyway, I'll love you and leave you; I really have got to get home."

He winked at the girls and pulled an over dramatic salute to James before swinging around and jogging towards Honeydukes, cutting through the busy crowds of shoppers murmuring his apologies. The quicker he got home the better.

"OI!" someone shouted.

Sirius skidded to a halt, his hand flying to his hair and ruffling it warily. Perhaps it was too much of a stretch to leave like that with no explanation. He should have expected him to run after him. "Yeah James?"

He didn't turn around to look at him, he could hear his ragged breaths clearly enough to know it was him.

"What are you doing?" he panted, "why are you going home? I had to leave Lily to come after you!"

"I told you to stay with her," he reminded him lowly. "The amount you talk about her, I thought you'd grab at an opportunity where you could spend time with her, even if it was only for a minute." At his own words Sirius blinked and, in a second, saw an image of _her_ imprinted behind his eyelids, standing on a chair polishing bookshelves.

It didn't help him by any means. It was only another reminder to hurry up, because she was at home, waiting for him, and James was being stubborn as always and not getting the bloody hint.

"I would go back to her now, but I want to know why you're acting so weirdly! There's something you're not telling me," he said. There was a glitch of hurt in his voice that made Sirius feel guilty. "Why are you going home? You hate everything about the place!"

Sirius shrugged and, when he remained silent and with his back to him, James was gawping and spluttering. "You can't Sirius - you hate it mate! You're mum's a horrible bitch you said it yourself! You always say it!"

A woman carrying a young infant shot him an appalled look as she passed by, and James hastily apologised before staring back at Sirius, who – though his face was hidden, his shaking body was enough to know that he was chuckling.

He sensed James's stubborn lack of amusement and sobered up. "I know," he said with a sigh. "I know she is."

"Well then. I've already told my dad that you're coming to live with us as soon as you're seventeen and he agreed!"

Sirius turned around. "You know if it was that simple I would move tomorrow," he said, looking him straight in the face and hoping he'd understand. They hardly ever disagreed. Shoppers started to look at them and he lowered his voice. "But it's _not_ simple anymore. _You know_ why. Before it was just me, now it's…"

He broke off and James's eyes widened in sudden realisation.

"The girl?"

Sirius looked up at him, rubbing his neck in a mixture of worry and embarrassment and nodded. "Hermione," he muttered. "Her… her name's Hermione."

They were silent for a minute.

He exhaled loudly and dropped his hand in exasperation. "I can't leave her James. I have to go home and make sure she's okay."

James's blue eyes were set on him in a silent surveying. "Even if it means jeopardising your own happiness to keep her safe?" he asked with a slight frown.

With no hesitation Sirius nodded again and at James's more pronounced frown, he crossed his arms and set him with a knowing look. "Imagine if it was Lily."

James fell quiet and Sirius knew, in that moment, that he completely understood.

He stepped closer to him and slung an arm around his shoulders. "So, what's she like?"

Sirius reciprocated the arm and looked out into the distance of Diagon Alley swarming with people, but only seeing her pushing through the crowd, bare foot and in the white sack dress that she wore. He ached for her – wanted to wish so much that his vision was real – that for a minute, he froze on the spot and stared, mouth open, at this beautiful creature walking towards him with a brilliant smile on her face.

He blinked and glanced sideways at James still waiting.

"Sorry," he smiled guiltily. "Hermione… she's…"

He shook his head. Words failed him.

* * *

><p>They were all out when he arrived home, and standing in the porch of a family free house, Sirius's muscles tensed and flexed with barely contained excitement. He was going to be able spend some time with her. <em>Just the two of them<em> in the Black family house. He thought the night before and how he cuddled her and smiled slightly, making a mental note to cuddle her for longer the moment he laid eyes on her. Pumping with adrenalin he tore up the stairs, taking them three at a time and twirled round the banister when he reached the top landing.

"Mione, where are you?" he shouted. "No one's home, I can give you and exclusive tour of my bedroom, or we can sunbathe in the garden or I can teach how to waltz in the kitchen or – or we can just chat in the library!"

He wanted to do everything and nothing with her.

He kicked open all the bedroom doors and hurried inside them, even falling to his knees to check under the beds. "Mione!"

Frown lines crinkled his forehead as he pushed back out the bedroom and down the stairs. "Answer me," he muttered angrily under his breath, "why isn't she _answering me_?"

He charged to the door under the stairs and banged hurriedly against it. "Hermione! Open up love it's me!" silence followed and Sirius swallowed hard, fear and nerves squirming his insides. He shoved his body against the door desperately. "Please Hermione_._"

In the pantry swallowed up in the darkness, her hair damp, her eyes damp, her body damp with sick she pushed herself slowly into a sitting position as she heard someone call her name. Maybe she was had only imagined it and she was going crazy already…

"_HERMIONE!_"

"Sirius?" she rose to her feet, hand clamped to her mouth to stop throwing up. The stench was awful. A mixture between rotting fish and eggs and it only got worse. She stepped hesitantly towards the pantry door trying to push the thought to the back of her mind. "Sirius is that you?"

In the kitchen, Sirius's ears pricked up, his canine sense of hearing telling him that sounds were coming from the kitchen. Every second, every minute that ticked by was closer to his family coming home, which meant less time spent with her. Eyes wide and desperate, he darted into the kitchen, knocking a chair to the floor.

"Hermione?"

"Sirius, over here!" she croaked. "I'm in the pantry!"

He breathed out in relief and hung his head to the ceiling, closing his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered heavenly, "oh thank you."

"Sirius?"

He hastily scurried to the pantry door, and slammed himself against it. "Hermione baby, what are you doing in the pantry? Are you okay? Open the door love, let me see you."

Hermione bit her lip at the tenderness in his voice and stroked the oak wood of the pantry door, because it was the closest thing to him. "I can't," she said. "It's locked."

"Locked-?"

He didn't understand.

"They've locked me in here Sirius," she mumbled on. "I have to eat all the stale food in three days, trays of fish and – and things. Otherwise-" she broke off, thinking it was best to leave out that part. It was bad enough as it was.

He was stiff with silence for a while, his jaw clenched, his fists set tight for a punch. "Otherwise what?" he demanded. He knew what. She could tell by the thick dreading tone as he spoke. Hermione's eyes fell shut.

She repeated the words Kreacher had said to her himself. "She'll kill me anyway."

He did what she expected.

"No! NO! WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS-" he pounded on the door, shoving his shoulder against it hard. "I WON'T LET HER! FOR FUCKS SAKE NO! SHE CAN'T DO THIS!" She could hear his rapid swearing as he tried to pry the door open with his fingers. "Hermione, try – try and get out!"

"Stop Sirius, it's no use," she said, tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. "Please, stop."

She knew it wouldn't open and he knew it too, but he still carried on trying to pull it off its hinges.

"I can't _stop_ Hermione! I need to see you, she can't – she can't do this to you! I – you – we…"

He kept hitting the door frantically. A tear escaped her eye but she wiped it away. "Sirius-"

"I left for an hour and she's already trying to kill you!" he bellowed, so loud it echoed in the dingy food cupboard. "Whatever you do Hermione, promise me you won't touch that fucking food! Promise me," she said nothing and he hit the door. "Hermione _promise me_."

"I've already eaten some," she whispered. "I've already got food poisoning."

And like it was all disgustingly planned, she felt the warm, bubbly lava liquid rising up her throat. She tried helplessly to swallow it back but it made her gag. She dropped to her knees and the sound of wet vomit splatted the concrete.

"I'll be okay," she said weakly.

He didn't speak for an age.

When he did, it was chilling to the bone.

"She's not going to hurt you anymore." The tone stated finality and no argument. "You hear me Hermione? Over my dead body."

* * *

><p><em><strong>To all my readers, you have waited so patiently. It's been three months! Hope you've all been good. We're all hitting the flip flops and bikinis here, first bit of sun in England and we go mad haha. Exams are coming up soon so the update may take a while, but reviews will never go unappreciated. You should all know that by now. Grant me an online snog and tell me what you think! I'm not a lesbian. But I want a snog. I'm off to play some frisbee in the sun! So I'll love you and leave you. Remember the snog ;) -sophie x<strong>_


	8. Chapter 8

There are many different types of pain. There's the pain that lasts seconds, hurts one minute and is gone the next; like a stub in the toe maybe, or brushing a tangled knot out of your hair. There's the pain that can throb and sting for weeks and weeks on end; a broken arm, a torn ligament, a head injury… physical. And then, the other pain. The pain that gets you inside, seizes your heart and infects the very air you breathe. That pain isn't temporary. It's always there, and you always feel it, no matter how much you try not to. It changes you, it traps you, tortures you, and you have no choice but to endure it.

Sirius was broken with that pain.

"Hermione, don't cry… please don't cry… _fucking hell_…"

He had his eyes squeezed shut, willing himself to stay strong for the both of them. He could hear her sobbing through the hollow wooden pantry door, he could see her now in his mind's eye, squatting on a floor filthy with vomit and disgusting stale food, how alone and frightened she must be feeling. His breath came out in pants, and he gripped his hair.

"Don't do anything rash Sirius… stay out of trouble with your f-family…"

"I don't give a shit about my family! It's you that I care about!" he pressed his hands against the door, wishing more than anything that the wood which separated them would vanish so that they could be together. "I'll do anything to make you safe 'Mione. Anything."

Hermione had her head in her hands. _If only he knew_, she kept thinking, if only he knew what his family – his younger brother – did to bring Voldemort down. He gave up his life to try to stop him and Sirius didn't know, and because of that, she couldn't stop the tears. "No, you can't talk like that! You need to stop caring about me Sirius! I'm your slave and I-"

_I shouldn't even be here._ _I don't belong here._

"You should have listened to me from the start when I told you to stay away! Forget about me Sirius! You're _young!_ Embrace it, live wildly and care free!"

_While you still can. _

She remembered the crazed man she saw in the front page of the newspapers, laughing with that mad glint in his eye. He was sixteen now and twenty one when he got thrown in Azkaban. He'd already suffered enough, living in this house, having his family's name, but those twelve years locked away in the darkness would make him realise that his life now were to be the best days of his life. He only had five more years of being blissfully happy, being with the Marauders, being free, and she wasn't going to inflict any pain on him. She owed him that much.

She was sobbing, and so he was he. Or just about to. She could hear his ragged, shaky breath, and the way his voice cracked with emotion.

"For fucks sake, no! No! I can't stop 'Mione – I can't …" he smacked the door hard. Presumably with his fist, just like older Sirius did, dealing with matters physically. It was the only way he knew how. "I can't just _forget_ about you alright?! You say it like it's so easy, and I'll never – never forget you…"

He punched the door over and over, yelling and swearing profanities until there was a loud crack and a strangled cry. She lurched and throw up. Now they both had broken bones that couldn't be fixed. "Listen to me," he was panting through the pain, letting out small but gut wrenching groans that made her shiver.

"Sirius-"

"No, listen-"

"Sirius, stop-!"

"I love you."

He said it so quickly it didn't register.

"Wh-what?"

"I _love you_ Hermione."

She shuffled closer to the door, to him, silent tears sliding down her face.

"No you don't. You can't."

He let out a laugh, but it was strained, through gritted teeth. Closing her eyes, she could see him, sat against the door, his head thrown to the ceiling as he clutched his broken hand, knuckle, whatever it was. He was in pain and yet, mutterings of love was slipping from his lips.

"I fucking love you." His voice was a hiss and sounded closer than ever. "I wish I didn't. It hurts… More than anything."

He sighed heavily, and she could hear him move around a bit, as if settling himself in a comfortable position to tell a story. She leant her head against the cold wood and listened; the roughness of his voice reminded her of his older self, not a sixteen year old's moment of confession.

"I didn't think I'd be like James and fall for a girl... not in the way he had. We were in Transfiguration, and Evans had thrown her ink pot over him. I can't remember why now… they're always in a tiff about something… so James turns to me, his eyes wide and smiling like an idiot - and tells me he was in love with her. I laughed it off and called him a soppy git. We were thirteen," he chuckled lowly as she listened, smiling. "And then I met you, standing in the shadows of my hallway. And I know how James felt… I was fucking powerless, I couldn't do anything. My heart was beating like it's never done before, I could barely breathe… _Jesus_ Hermione I could barely stand _up!_ I knew then and I know now. I ache for you all the time Hermione… to see you, talk to you, to hold you," he let out a long sigh. "To kiss you. I'm aching now. And I'd do anything to spare you pain, to make you happy and to hear you laugh. A comfortable, peaceful night's sleep is when we're together, and you're in my arms and I can feel the rise and fall of your stomach against mine. If that's not love, you tell me what is."

She touched the wood, the tears streaming. She couldn't lie to him, could no longer fight it. Not now. Not anymore. "Oh. You're such an idiot. _Such_ an idiot!" she mused. "But I'm aching for you too."

She wanted him to hold her. How many times had she smelt the leather of his jacket as she hugged him? Felt it under her fingers wrapped around his neck? Older Sirius too. Older Sirius… she squeezed her eyes shut. She had… feelings… for both of them. The same man, stretched over twenty years. She wanted to run her hands through his shaggy hair, feel the stubble of his jaw and neck and run her fingers along his lips. She wanted to feel his strong, masculine arms around her, hear his soft, murmuring voice in her ear as he cuddled her from behind. She wanted to hear his barking laugh. She wanted to look deep into his fathomless grey eyes and see the world.

She was in love with Ron, the man she is set to marry and has been set to marry for years… and there was potential that she was in love with Sirius Black too, the reckless boy he is – was, and the reckless man he will be – _is. _Yes, it was very confusing. They bickered, they argued, but somewhere, somehow and though she would deny it and continue to deny it, she knew she loved him. She loved them both. It was unquestionable.

"This is killing me 'Mione, I need to get you out of there," he moaned desperately.

"Oh, she is coming out."

Behind the door, in the confines of the dingy pantry box, Hermione froze. The cold voice, the spine-chilling softness of it. One name sprung to mind. _Walburga Black. _Panic rose in her stomach, but she wasn't scared for herself. How long had she been standing there? What had she heard?

"You're not going near her," hissed Sirius's voice. "Over my dead body."

"Goodness gracious, you must really love this specimen. We can't have that now can we? A member of the Black family can't _love_ a mud blood!" she was sneering - horribly at that. Her sharp voice cut through the air and made every hair on her neck stand on end. She was the creature that slithered through the weeds and made every living thing scuttle away in fear. "Step aside boy. I'll show you how mud blood's are to be treated."

Sirius laughed. "How about I show you how conniving bitches are meant to be treated-"

There was a high pitched shriek and an ear deafening blast so phenomenal that it shook the house. Sawdust came down from the ceiling and landed in her hair, and around her food slipped from the shelves and plummeted on top of her. In the commotion, the pantry door clicked open with a creak. Shaking and cowering with her arms above her head, she reached out for it and pushed it open.

She felt the door hit something hard. Solid. Crawling out on her hands and knees she saw him, the body of her Sirius, stretched out on the floor, unmoving. Whatever the witch of a woman had done to him, hit him with, was strong and possibly fatal. It horrified her to see his eyes closed; he looked like he was sleeping, engrossed in peaceful dreams. His mouth was half open, words stolen from his lips in the moment his own mother attacked him. And neither of them would ever know what those words were.

"S-Sirius-?" she breathed out, shaking him hard, her voice was panicky, and with good reason. He didn't even stir. "Sirius? Wake up."

She shook him harder, gripped his hand, threw herself on top of him – did anything to wake him up. But he lay completely still, his skin no longer warm but cool. She had already watched him die once, in the Department of Mysteries; she had heard the cackling laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange as his body floated into the Veil and vanished in a gulf of flames, and now her ears were ringing with the cold, high pitched laughter of Mistress Black. History was literally repeating itself.

"Don't leave me again Sirius… don't you dare!"

She stroked his cheeks, ran her fingers along his sharp jaw and chin, fluffy with stubble, the stubble which tickled her when they curled up together in her sleeping headquarters. She remembered the morning when Sirius – older Sirius - strolled down to breakfast with his stubble and goatee completely gone; he'd shaved it off, and she didn't speak to him for the rest of the day. Sirius knew why, and he followed her barking with laughter as she stormed into the library. It was pathetic and petty and uncharacteristically childish of her, but she loved his stubble. It was one of the many things that made him _him_. Sirius eventually provoked her to talking to him, like he always did, like he always had and would. And just like she was back then and how she was a lot of the time with him-, she was furious.

She grabbed his shoulders and shook him vigorously. He did nothing, and she felt like slapping him.

"Fuck you Sirius," she cursed, and leant forward and pressed her lips hard to his cheek. It was this touch, this rough handling that roused him. He coughed twice, and sat up, blinking slowly. She was the first person he saw, and his face broke out into a huge, contagious grin, as if he hadn't just woken up from the land of the dead.

He was as charming as ever. "Hello you." He tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek, so casually it was irritating. Did he not just realise what he had done to her?

"Hi there," she snapped, "nice nap?"

Sirius laughed weakly and wrapped his arms tightly around her, trying to get her to smile by nuzzling his nose into her hair and down her neck. It was like they were down in the cellar fighting over the box of fudge all over again.

"Slave?" came a sharp voice.

Hermione jumped and looked up, startled at being so abruptly addressed. Sirius grin slowly faded and his eyes clouded with hatred.

"Did I not make it clear enough when I said you were not to communicate with any of the family under any circumstances?"

Hermione swallowed under the fierceness of her glare. She refused to look away. She refused to give her the satisfaction. "You - you made it very clear your majesty."

"Oh jolly good, I thought I did," Walburga hummed with a smile, as if it this was all just a game. To her, it may have been. She cocked her head to the side and advanced closer. When she spoke, it was in a chillingly calm voice, and it frightened her inside and out. Sirius must have felt her shivering for he lay a kiss against her temple and ran a soothing hand down her back. It helped, but only marginly. She was speaking again.

"Then I'm sure you'll understand why I have to punish you. Don't worry," she added, her voice cheerful and light, "you'll black out within ten seconds."

"You aren't going to hurt her," Sirius seethed.

"Oh no," Walburga tutted. "I'm going to hurt you."

The second it was raised, Hermione knew that Mrs Black meant what she said about introducing her to her dear friend…

"Sit tight mud blood. _CRUCIO!_"

There was a flash of green light, and a ball of emerald flames hurled towards her. Time seemed to slow in that moment, the seconds dragged like minutes; watching in slow motion as the fire collided with her body. The pain hit her as soon as the spell did – square in the chest.

Her broken wrist may as well have been scratch. The pain…unbearable wasn't quite the word. It wasn't strong enough. She could barely think, barely see, barely hear anything apart from the late echo of her screams. And someone else shouts, shouting words she couldn't make out. The pain... It was like being slit open, your skin cut and charred with blunt knives stabbing fifty, one hundred times, pounding into you like a unstoppable machine. The knives scorched her skin with white-hot burns and each stab was deep and sliced her insides more and more each time. Her body thrashed from side to side, her limbs twitched, she had no control of anything, and the only thing she was certain of was that she was screaming.

That's when she heard Sirius, bellowing three words. And that's when everything went black.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Well hello you sexy's it's been a while, hope you are all good. Fear not I have not abandoned you or this story! Tell me everything and anything you're thinking I will get back to you in a jiffy -sophie x p.s London is hectic atm, but us Brits and you Americans are rocking the Olympics! WOOOO love you guys and thank you for the reviews. <strong>_


	9. Chapter 9

The house was dark and gloomy with shadows when the grandfather clock struck midnight. One sharp chime sounded, and then everything lapsed into a still silence once more; it was the silence where if you listened hard enough, you could hear the faint scuttling of a mouse against the wooden floor but see not a glimpse of its tail… where, lying in bed, you could hear the echo of footsteps in the street outside, and the rain splashing the pavements and the skid of a car miles away…

Squinting amidst the murky silhouettes you would see a door ajar at the end of the hallway, and if you pushed it open, you would see a man there, sitting alone around a kitchen table that once upon a time, many years ago, used to be full. His head was bowed, his long shaggy locks mussed, and a hand with tattooed knuckles was covering his eyes while the other rested on the table, holding onto a tattered piece of parchment and a black and white photograph.

The black leather album was open in front of him, and dozens of photographs scattered the table around him. They were all Polaroid, with hand-written captions at the bottom; some had elegant black writing with swirling g's and y's and others a lazy scrawl. To the right was a stack of staining letters wrapped together with spellotape. You couldn't have counted how many. Though old, the parchment smelt of coffee and Honeydukes fudge and creamy butterbeer and it lingered on your fingertips like cigarette smoke. He could have been there for hours. The candle had long burnt out, and the wax had long since dried, and the bottle of Ogden's had long since emptied, but still he sat.

'…_I told you I'd write as soon as I got here. It's been raining non-stop, but the feast raised my spirits. I'm absolutely stuffed. That chocolate gateau … fucking hell, orgasmic it is Mione, you might remember? I've managed to sneak some food out for you, which you're probably eating now. I'll get you some more at breakfast. Remember those games of twenty questions we used to play? I think we should start again now, from number one. And write for longer than a page Hermione. Every time I read your letters they end too quickly. Wrap up warm tonight. I wish I was there with you… S x'_

'…_I'm so sorry it's been so long since my last letter. How is Hogwarts? I hope you aren't getting into too much trouble, though from the stories you've told me, I'm sure this is an absolute waste of ink. In fact, I'm quite certain it is. NEWTs are a lot harder than O.W.L's Sirius! I'm much warmer on nights now I wear your Quidditch jumper. It smells of you. It almost helps me to believe that you're here… And that only makes me sad... I must go. The first question is yours. I will write as soon as I can. Don't worry about me, just enjoy yourself and I'll be happy. -HERmione x'_

He moved on to the next one, smiling and blinking through tears.

'…_Hogwarts is fine love, everything is fine. You'll be pleased to know that I only got two detentions this week, me and James. Both were by McGonagall, but I'm convinced she loves us really (deep, deep, deep, deep down). Oh and Moony finished the book and said to tell you that he found it really interesting… you two are such swots. By the way, your last letter made me laugh so hard that I choked on my cornflakes. How you can still scold me being a hundred miles away? You are amazing. How are you? Are you okay? Tell me everything. Be safe. I'm counting down the days till I see you again. I love you. S x_

There were many more like that that followed. There were hundreds of them, all words of sweet dreams and goodnight kisses. They were all written in the boy's dormitory at the window overlooking the Great Lake. He used to keep them under his pillow as he slept, so James or nosy Peter wouldn't find them. He found he couldn't read anymore. He knew they would eventually stop, and he knew the day; rubbing his damp eyes, he picked it up: the last letter, which had been screwed up and smoothed out, then screwed up and smoothed out for the last twenty years. It was dated the 31st December, 1976. His fingers were trembling, like they were every time.

_Sirius_

_I know you will be furious that I'm writing this in a letter, but I have no other choice. I don't quite know where to begin but I should start by saying that I won't be here tomorrow. I have to go back home. I can't explain why, or how, but one day, it will all come into light. I promise. It sounds ridiculously cheesy and not at all like me but then I'm not even sure who I am anymore. You've changed me, and you've saved me, in all the ways a woman can be saved. You've made me cry and you've made me laugh… a million times over… and all those things we've said to each other… I'll never forget them. Thank you. This isn't the end. I may be gone in the flesh but I'm always there in your heart. Please remember that, because one day in the future, I will see you again. I know I will. Until then, take care and try to behave and never, ever change from the amazing man you are. It isn't goodbye, it's see you soon. _

_I love you. Please don't hate me. _

_Your 'Mione x_

Sirius leant back in his chair, ran his hands tiredly over his face and absently picked up another photograph. It was of them, the both of them, taken outside the fish and chip shop down James's road. They were pressed against the wall; wrapped in each other's arms and kissing like the randy, love sick teenagers they were. People often said you never got over your first love, and he hadn't. Not even after two decades. He still stopped and stared at the door underneath the stairs every time he passed it. He still ran his fingers over the rough and chipped paint he 'never got round to decorating', and there were so many nights he descended the spiral staircase, lay stretched out on the floor and slept there, like the countless times he had with her. They were little things, but he couldn't let go of them.

There was a small cough and he turned quickly in alarm. Standing in the doorway was Remus; he looked tired and older than he had in a long while, partly because the full moon was two days ago. "Couldn't sleep?" he said, a sad smile on his face. He knew that his friend had been accustomed to sleepless nights after Azkaban.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, something like that. How long have you been there?"

"Not long, I just got here. Had an argument with Tonks so… I thought I'd stay here tonight, let her cool off."

"Seems like a good plan, I've seen her when she's angry," he smirked at him, his eyebrows raised, as if the statement alone said his views about the matter. "What was the argument about? I'll get you a drink, make yourself comfy mate." He gestured at the chairs cross from him and stood up, heading to the fridge. "I've finished all the firewhiskey. Cold beer alright?"

Remus grinned and shrugged off his jacket. "A cold beer is great." He went to the table and sat down with an exhausted sigh as Sirius came back, holding out his beer. "Thanks."

Sirius sunk back in his chair. "So what happened?"

He shrugged and rubbed his eyes wearily. "We were just… I don't know. Neither of us were in particularly good moods, she'd had a bad day at work and I hadn't had enough time to make dinner… things escalated from there. Once she's pissed off I can never say anything right. But whatever, we'll be fine…" his voice trailed to silence and the Polaroid photographs caught his eye. "What's this?" a closer look and he froze, the gasp never quite escaping from his mouth. "Is this-?!"

Sirius visibly tensed, and that was all the indication Remus needed. He gathered all of them to his side of the table and examined them, frequently glancing up at his old friend with a look that spoke of shock and realisation and sadness. "Oh Pads… I haven't seen these in twenty years. Merlin, look at you two! Look at her! It still feels like it was yesterday."

Sirius leaned on his elbows, his fingers knitted together as he stared ahead of him, trying to block out every emotion coursing so powerfully through his veins. He had to do it every time he saw her growing up, her being so blissfully aware of just how much she meant to him, and now he'd become very good at it. But he had his off days.

"Has she gone?" Remus asked. His voice was hoarse.

"Yes."

"How often do you look at these?"

Sirius shrugged and took a long swig of beer. He had a lump in his throat, and he found he could barely swallow. When he had effectively drained the bottle he slammed it on the table, gritting his teeth and bowing his head, "When I'm missing her."

Remus didn't speak for a while, clearly thinking that he must have carried the photographs around with him, because Sirius had become very accustomed to missing her. It was so natural, always there, and at times he forgot he did it. It was like breathing. Remus sat a bit higher in his chair and cleared his throat, frowning slightly. "Do you still love her? In the same way you did?"

Sirius shook his head again and dropped his head into his hands. Remus noticed his fingers were trembling and his breathing was shaky and slow, like he was nervous but angry all at once. When he looked back up his eyes were damp and shining with tears. Sirius never cried.

"I want her even more mate."

He abruptly leant forward in his chair and ran his tattooed hands in his hair, because it gave him something to do. From the way that his friend looked at him, that awful pity in his eyes, he knew that Sirius was quickly becoming distraught, and he knew there was nothing he could do or say to make him feel better.

"I – I thought it would have gone by now, but it hasn't," he glanced up at him, pain so evident in his eyes. "It's been twenty five years. I haven't seen my 'Mione, my girl, for a _quarter of a century_."

Remus patted his hand. "I know Pads. It's awful. And she's-" he was scared to say it. "She's engaged now isn't she?"

Sirius let out a harsh laugh. "She is indeed. I've been waiting for her for over half my life and she's not even mine to have," the grin vanished from his face as quick as it came and he was left gazing down at her last letter, tracing his finger over her name signed in elegant black letters. _Your 'Mione._ He closed his eyes and let out a growl. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't have waited for her. And sometimes…" he exhaled and gestured vaguely with his hands. "…I wish she'd never have went back in time, that all she was to me was my Godson's best friend. Because it would've made everything so much easier! I wouldn't be turning down perfectly nice women. But she's _all _I want. I don't want anyone if it isn't her…"

"I know Sirius, I know…"

"And I told her I wanted to marry her… for fuck sake Remus, we spoke about what names we would call our children. Cora for a girl, Charlie for a boy…" his voice started to break and he fell into a bitter silence. "She'll probably use them for the ginger kids she'll have with Ron. Fucking brats."

He stood abruptly from his chair and paced the room, the soles of his boots clinking on the floor.

Remus observed him, wanting so much to make him feel better, for the pain to be gone for once and for all. But it doesn't matter what you want. It never matters. Sometimes what you want and what you deserve are completely different. Sirius wanted Hermione and, in his eyes, he deserved her too. Would they ever be together properly? Would that day ever come?

"You'll have to sit it out mate…" he said with a heavy sigh, "Wait and see what she says when she comes back. If she says she loved you in her last letter then she'll love you when she is home." He caught Sirius's bitter look and shrugged. "If you're meant to be together it'll work out."

Sirius didn't agree. He didn't actually say anything apart from grunt. Remus cocked an eyebrow at him and he roughly cleared his throat. "No point in me getting my hopes up," he murmured, more to himself than his friend. "She's too good for me…she always has been. It's my fault I can't stop loving her."

He clenched his jaw and looked away, his voice an angry hiss.

"Bitch."

* * *

><p>She awoke fifteen minutes ago in the dingy basement, lying on her back. It hurt to move even the slightest inch, hurt to push her hair off of her face, it hurt to breathe in… like her lungs had been compressed overnight and they were left bruised and aching. It would have been worse if she'd have blinked in the blackness alone, but she had him beside her. He'd been holding her hand the whole time, the gaps in between her fingers being filled with his; fingers that would one day be tattooed.<p>

She wondered how he had come to be with her… had his mother pushed him down the stairs after she had been struck with the cruciatus curse? Or did she turn it on him too? Where was she now? His rumbling voice was reciting lines from a book that she could not see the title of, and he would pause occasionally to process what the words meant. From what she heard, it was not a novel, but a poem of some sort, and he didn't sound hurt in any way, just tired. The grandfather clock struck midnight and she smiled at the thought that he must have been reading for hours, trying to occupy himself until she woke. Now that she was, she didn't have the heart to tell him. She wanted to remain quiet and discreet, listening to his voice forever.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and temperate. Rough winds to shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath too short a date…"

Alas, it was not so. He had seen her lips curl into smile, and he'd been watching her sleep for long enough to know that she hadn't fallen asleep like that. There was a loud clunk and she guessed he had dropped the book to floor, out of shock, for she would smack him if he dropped Shakespeare from lack of interest; whatever it was she felt him shift onto his elbows and settle directly above her face. She knew because she could feel his warm breath blow on her cheeks, and could feel his hand stroke gently through her hair.

"How do you feel love? Where does it hurt? Is your wrist okay? I don't mind saying you scared the absolute shit out of me yesterday, I thought I may have lost you…" he dropped a loving kiss to her temple, waiting for her response. None came. "I know you're pretending to be asleep," he said lowly after a while. By the tone she could tell he was grinning.

She remained silent, her eyes stubbornly squeezed shut and her teeth biting into her bottom lip as she tried her hardest to stop a smile breaking out.

"Aren't you going to talk to me?"

She said nothing.

"Ah so we're playing _that_ game are we?" He began to chuckle. "Well at least I have a good memory and can remember exactly where you are ticklish."

He started to slide his hand up the underside of her bare arm, the ring on his thumb cold and making her shiver; she mentally swore. She hated being tickled, and she knew it too, the bloody man! He edged closer to her, his hands brushing over her shoulders and up to the juncture of her neck. He knew what he was doing. She could practically feel him shaking with laughter as she held out, squirming and quivering like a lamb to slaughter. Well, if he was going to tickle her she wasn't responsible for her actions. His fingertips were crawling to her collarbone now, stopping abruptly at the bone. Any second now he was going to pounce.

He was fast, moving to her neck, fingers in the juncture of her neck and collarbone; the very touch set her off and she twisted onto her side, shrieking with laughter as he fell against her, smirking and using his weight as a means to tickle her more. In her book that was cheating and she tried to tell him so.

"WHAT?"

"I sa- _said_," she huffed, "that's chea-" his hand dived to the juncture again and she pealed into uncontrollable laughter that went on and on.

"Sorry 'Mione, I'm really struggling to hear you, what did you say?"

She rolled on the spot, breathless and weak with laughter. She tried to pry his hands from her neck, panting. "You barstard, you arse, you idiot, you…" she had run out of insults. "You fucking prick!"

"Excuse me?" he growled menacingly. She had seen that look on his face before, when he was older, and it was followed by a blinding row. She slumped back on the floor, pursing her lips and generally making herself look as innocent as she could; he was having none of it, and she watched with scared amusement as he pushed to his knees above her, shaking his head like a disappointed teacher. "Don't try and look cute now. You, 'Mione, are very, very naughty," he said. "Did you know that?"

"Coming from you!" she cried, "that's rich."

His lips broke out into a grin and before she could blink he had lunged for her again, tickling her all over. She screamed and shouted and laughed, albeit grudgingly – she was smacking him as he did it. Too much laughter in little time actually hurt, and the fact that she was already battered from yesterday's events didn't help. She stopped his intruding strong hands with a swift kick where the sun didn't shine and he dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, swearing enough to turn someone blind.

"Shitting fucking hell Hermione!"

He rolled onto his side in the foetal position, clutching his manhood with both hands. She must have been in trouble if he was calling her by her actual name, and it was with suppressed laughter that she crawled over to him, trying to apologise but failing miserably. She could barely get the words out. She desperately tried to think of something sad to wipe the grin off her face, but it didn't work.

"I would ask if you're okay…" she began.

He raised his head off the floor to glare at her.

"I'm sorry, it's just I could barely breathe Sirius, you know I hate being tickled!"

"Well I'm not a massive fan of getting my dick walloped either as it goes," he hissed, his eyes falling shut as she kissed him softly on the cheek. He let out a pained pant, his neck and voice were strained, but his eyes had softened. He continued muttering swear words under his breath though, some followed by her name. "I can say goodbye to having children, that's for sure."

She rolled her eyes but started to laugh in spite of herself.

"Don't be such a drama queen! You're exaggerating!"

"Exaggerating?" he retorted, grabbing on to one of her hands and pulling her on top of him. She landed on him with a squeak, her head falling perfectly against his chest, his arm holding her close. Admittedly she did snuggle further into his arms, but she told herself it was just because he was so warm, not the fact that his aftershave was so musky and delectable, or the fact that his arms seemed to be the one place she was safe, protected from evil. Not just in this time, but in her time too.

"Now 'Mione, if it was any other girl kicking me in my log cabin I wouldn't speak to them for weeks," he said against her forehead, his breath blowing the whispers of hair. He was very aware she was cringing at the name he had used. "I hope you know that. But as it's you, and you didn't have control of your actions-"

"Because of your tickling-" she reminded him.

He sighed heavily, putting on the pretence that he was feeling hard done by, when he was amused more than anything. "Because of my tickling…" he confirmed, with a roll of his eyes. "I suppose I'll forgive you…" she began to smile, "on one condition."

She buttoned her lips.

"You kiss it better."

"I hope you don't mean your log cabin!" Her head whipped towards him, staring at him disgustedly, looking for a sign he was joking; his face remained impassive and she gasped. "I can't believe you! That's disgusting!"

He barked with laughter and she began pushing herself up and off him, not seeing the amusement twinkling in his eyes, not catching on that he'd never, ever ask her to do that. He had already told her he loved her, or had she forgotten that?

"Get off!" she snapped, and he chuckled and did the opposite. He wrapped his arms tightly around her slim frame, refusing to let her go, however much she struggled. "Sirius!" she moaned, "get off, seriously!"

She pointedly ignored the pun, and how his mouth was half open about to say something smart. She covered her hand over his mouth to stop him, then quickly snatched it away when he smothered it with kisses. "Let me go!" she said again. She was whining like a child, simply because he was being very childish, in her opinion.

"No. I'm only pulling your leg, love I just want a kiss here," he licked his lips to draw her attention to them. "One kiss. That's all."

Her rough movements ceased at his voice which was soft like velvet and sweet like honey; she found herself doing a double take, her mind was hazy. "What did you say?"

She knew full well what he said. He raised his eyebrows, thinking the exact same. "You heard me 'Mione," he whispered, his eyes looking steadily into hers; they seemed to calm her and excite her all at once, and she didn't know how that was. Come to think of it, she didn't know much around him - not even who she was, and what the fuck he was doing to make her eyes flick down to his lips, curled into a knowing smirk.

"Kiss me," he mouthed.

She forced herself to look down, tear her eyes away from his before it was too late. It was much easier to say no when she was talking to her hands instead of those smoky irises of his. "I don't think it's a good idea," she said, timidly. She was thinking of Ron.

"No Hermione," he said, tilting her chin back up. Ron vanished. "Wanking in potions isn't a good idea. Flying a motorcycle when you're drunk isn't a good idea. Telling James that Lily would rather go out with the giant squid than him isn't a good idea…" without knowing it, he had successfully slid her onto his lap, with his arms coiled around her waist. It was like that time they were play fighting for the Honeydukes fudge, except this time they weren't laughing. He gazed up at her with heavy lidded eyes, like he could stare at her forever and never get bored. "I've done all those things. Kissing you is the best idea I've ever had."

He ran his thumb along her bottom lip, and, everything was a haze, but they both seemed to draw closer, the seconds dragging out like minutes. Then she was kissing him, and he was kissing her, and nothing else seemed to matter... not their age, not that she was a slave… not even that she was engaged to be married. Their tongues met with a whimper from her and a groan from him, and waists were squeezed, hair was fisted, each touch fire on their skin and gasp music to their ears; neither seemed to know what snapped inside them in that moment, but something did, and it changed them for the rest of their lives.

She knew love. She knew it was a dangerous leap, and to risk giving up your heart for someone to take care of was the biggest sacrifice a person could do. Yet she gave it to him, just as he had done the night before. With Sirius Black, she fell in love the way she fell asleep, slowly at first then all at once.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Firstly, I want to say thank you so, so much those of you who have stuck with this story. Your reviews will never go unappreciated. Just to clarify, I will never give up on this fic, and that's a promise. I hope you are loving the story as much as I am writing it. Oh, and because I have been such a bad updater as of late, keep your eyes peeled for Chapter 18 of Repercussions! I hope you all have a lovely Christmas, loads of love!<em>**


	10. Chapter 10

_It was in the late 17__th__ century that the means of unbinding human house slaves from their established pureblood families was concocted. The employment of muggle borns had been occurring for centures in wizarding Britain, most notable throughout the generations of the oldest Pureblood families: the Avery's, Black's, Carrow's, Lestrange's, Malfoy's and Yaxley's. Through religious and intricate study of the original and complex 'doulos dodum' spell that binds one human to a family, (similarly to the elf being bound to a house), an English muggle-born wizard name Romulus Bloxam was able to reverse the spell on itself which then enabled the house slave in question to be "set free". The result was 'mudod soluod'…_

"That's it Sirius, that's it!"

They were in her sleeping headquarters, lit up in candle light. Sirius, who was leaning on the wall opposite her, quickly glanced up from the ancient book of magic he was scanning through. They'd brought down a massive pile from the Black library, which had been a task in itself; tip toeing up and down the stairs, hiding in the shadows so no one would spot them…

"You're sure?"

He was grinning.

Hermione nodded and grinned back. "Positive. I do this spell then the spell her majesty cast on me will be reversed and I'll be released. I'll use my wand on my unbroken-wrist-hand, which is… my left. I'm not as confident so it'll be a bit shaky, but it should be okay. Have a look at this paragraph: page two hundred and eighty."

She handed him the book and watched him as he began to read, his eyes moving down the page. When he had finished his eyebrows rose impressively and his mouth slid into a delighted smirk. "And always, my 'Mione is right. Thank fuck for that." He put the book on the floor, still open, and patted his lap. "Come 'ere and give me a kiss."

She nibbled on her lip and timidly crawled over to him, unable to stop smiling when he started to drum his fingers against the floor in impatience. She dropped her head and stifled a laugh, and she could almost sense him trying to refrain from growling at her.

"Hermione," he said, in a low unamused drawl. "Get your arse here now."

She just about reached him and before she knew it he had swiftly pulled her onto his lap, his strong arms coiling around her waist, where he liked them best. Her dress had ripped on the night of the cruciatus curse and his hands rested on the hole that resulted, touching the bare, exposed skin of her abdomen.

"That's better."

He gently held her right hand, all wrapped up in cloth, and brought it to his lips, kissing each finger. "If only my lips could heal you baby."

Her throat had dried before she could comprehend it, and she made a soft hum of contentment. "If only."

He continued his tender kisses, and her lips parted as watched him. It was all way more sensual than he had intended it to be.

Her eyes flickered to his lips and suddenly they were kissing again, his fingers tangled in her hair and guiding her head to meet him a certain way. As cliché and pathetic as it sounded, their lips rubbing each other, coaxing in and out of each other felt right, in the most simplest and uncomplicated way.

It was like a replay of their kiss yesterday except now it was quicker, more insistent somehow. They knew what they wanted. Their tongues probed earlier, curling and caressing, his grunts and growls were louder, her whimpers more frequent and more intense. His hands became that little bit friskier, sliding up her back, down her long legs, even slipping under her dress to squeeze her arse. He explored her like a man starved.

It felt too good to stop him at first. She was too in the moment, too addicted to him.

But then he did it again.

She pulled away immediately, laughing. "No!" she caught his wandering hands and dragged them off and out from under there sharpish. "We're _meant_ to be doing this spell!"

Her cheeks felt hot and her lips felt sore. Sirius grinned wolfishly as he panted, calming himself. She noticed his lips were moist and just as well kissed as hers. He ran a hand up her smooth leg again, revelling in the smooth velvetiness of her cream white skin, the thighs that he so loved and her voluptuous, perfect rear. All the girls in his year were just that… girls. Hermione was a woman, and the most gorgeous he'd ever clapped eyes on.

He shook his head slightly.

"You," he whispered, nipping her ear and growling. "Are positively sinful, trying to undo me like this."

Her eyes fell shut as she felt his lips descend her neck. His breath was hot and the soft nibbling, sucking, kissing of his lips so sensual that when she did finally break away again, her heart was beating so rapidly she was gasping for a breath. She clutched onto his hands again and held them in her own, ceasing their exploring. "The spell Sirius."

"Do we have to do it now?"

She bit her lip in uncertainty, but said nothing. Neither did he.

In a silent agreement they moved hastily and were kissing again. Hands were tugging at hair, wrapped around necks, sliding down chests and backs. He tasted so good – a mixture of wine, smoke and mint and his scent smelling like sweet hazelnut and cinnamon… she was beside herself, really, in a way she had never been with Ron. If their kisses could be a word, the word was passion. The raw and fiery kind that some people long for, search their whole lives for but never find. And it took every slither of power she possessed to drag herself away.

"_Yes_."

He went to kiss her again and she put a finger to his lips.

"Stop now."

His head fell back against the wall with a thump. She ignored him. "Where's your wand?"

"In my trousers love," his voice was husky as he tried to catch his breath. "It's hard as a brick and standing at fourteen inches."

His eyes were dark and twinkling with mischief. It only confirmed her suspicions. She could feel the evidence herself, restrained in his chinos but pressing so deliciously against her French knickers. In their hazy fumbling she had barely registered it, his want, his desire, how much she was driving him crazy- and now she was wondering how on earth she hadn't. She thought about older Sirius. This was him she was kissing after all, his hands that she held, his erection she could feel against her. She swallowed hard and slid off of him before her breath started coming out in pants again.

"It's not fourteen inches really," he said lightly, watching her as she adjusted herself.

"Didn't think so."

"It's fifteen."

He barked with laughter. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. In their moment of hasty passion the book they had found the spell in had been kicked shut and now they had lost the page. She flicked to two hundred and eighty again, sighing as she tried to ignore that his body was still shaking with chuckles.

"Sirius."

He cleared his throat, seeming to sense she was no longer in the mood for banter, no matter how flirtatious it may be. "Sorry love, what's the spell?"

He reached for his wand in his pocket, trying to ignore the raging hard on he was currently harbouring. It was proving to be difficult.

She squinted at the page. "_Mudod soluod_…" her eyes scanned further down the page and widened in shock. "Oh, you've _got _to be joking…"

His eyebrows sprung up at her tone. "What? What's the matter?"

"It says… It says the caster of the spell has to be a member of the family I'm a slave for. _Bloxam discovered, after months of investigation, that the freeing of the slave would be impotent unless the spell was performed by a member of the family, sharing the same bond of pure blood. In cases in the last three hundred years where the family has not consented to cast the spell, slaves have laboured for more than half a century to perish in the house of their enslaved, whereas others have committed suicide as a means of escape from the world they so loathe." _She looked up at him mournfully.

Sirius, concerned but confused, shook his head. "So I'll cast the spell. What's the problem?"

She had a feeling he knew exactly what the problem was, but he was just feigning innocence. Or ignorance.

"You aren't allowed to do magic outside of school! And this isn't some…" she thought of Harry, "some occasion where you accidentally blow up a garden gnome…" He shot her a strange look, and she vaguely supposed that wasn't a typical accident for a teenage wizard. "You know what I mean," she said with a huff. "This is dark magic Sirius, _ancient _magic. You'll be expelled within a minute! There's no possibility we can-"

"Has it ever occurred to you 'Mione, as amazing and intelligent and beautiful as you are-" she blushed. "-That I don't actually give two shits about whether I'm expelled or not?"

The blush turned to into a bristle. "You say that now, but you wait. What about James, Remus…?" she refused to say Peter. "-what about Lily and all the things you will be missing out on?"

She couldn't believe he was actually considering this.

"They're my best mates, I'll still see them," he said nonchalantly.

When she nibbled on her lip, clearly unconvinced, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, cuddling her close.

"I've had nearly seven years with them 'Mione, and only a month with you. Do you know what we could do when you've been released from this place? Of all the places we could go? We could do whatever we want. We…" he ran a hand through his hair, like he was contemplating all the options. "-we could go shopping by day and eat in fancy restaurants by night. We could go to concerts and theatre shows and the pubs in muggle London that I've been to with James. We could get you an unlimited supply of fudge from Honeydukes. We could get drunk together and go skinny dipping. We could stay up all night, gazing at the stars, looking for the dogstar. And I can teach you Wizards chess and how to ballroom dance. We could…" he started to chuckle lowly. "Well I was never one for cheesy speeches but we could explore the _world!_ And you know, the best bit…" he stroked a finger down her cheek, his eyes looking steadily into her own. "We could be together without having to look over our shoulder all the time."

She turned to look at him, her forehead resting on his. He was looking at her. His grey eyes had tinge of light blue in them in the candlelight. It made her smile, and she was sure in that moment that Sirius Black was her favourite person in the whole world.

"I'm just worried about you." She muttered, leaning to kiss him.

He kissed her back. "Why?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

She grinned and rested her hand on his cheek, her fingers running over his stubble. He leant into her touch and kissed her thumb, grinning too. He looked so astounding that her eyes started prickling, and she willed for them to stop. She didn't want any water works, but they seemed damn well likely. What had happened to her? When had she become such a romantic?

"I want you to be having a wild time Sirius, doing all that stuff you just said… but with your _friends._ Not me. It's what being a teenager and growing up is all about. Love comes after. And Hogwarts is your home."

_He's goes into Azkaban when he's twenty one. He's goes into Azkaban when he's twenty one!_

He smiled and pushed back a strand of her fallen hair. "So we are then?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Are we what?"

"In love."

He gazed at her. She was pretty sure she was gazing right back. And she was also pretty sure that she had just been melted to mush and all that was left was a puddle with her beating heart in. She swallowed hard. The lump didn't go away.

"Well," she cleared her throat and looked at him again. "From the books I've read…-"

"Books?"

"Yes."

For the life of her she didn't know how he managed to bark with laughter when she was battling sobbing her heart out, but he did. And he sounded so happy. And he looked so delectably handsome it made her heart physically ache.

The answer they finally came down to, three minutes and twelve seconds later, was that yes they were in love, and yes, Hermione _had_ read several people's accounts of what it felt like to 'fall in love' to confirm it. She realised how funny she sounded when Sirius had imitated her some minutes later…

"So… the spell…" he said, when their laughter had finally died down. "Will you let me do it?"

She peered down at their joined hands, their intertwined fingers, mulling it over. The spell would definitely lead to expulsion…

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that older Sirius had got NEWTs, so he must have gone back to Hogwarts in his seventh year somehow. But still, that wasn't the point was it? She had been telling him for weeks that she wouldn't be responsible for getting him expelled. She didn't want to risk changing the time line. She was already stepping on dangerous grounds being stuck in 1976 and meddling with events such as this, and people, such as Sirius.

_Sirius wasn't meant to fall for her. _

Maybe some part of her hoped that it wouldn't ripple through to her time; that his love for her would shrivel up and die like a rose in winter. Or maybe she hoped that he'd be obliviated somehow, and he'd forgotten that she was ever a slave in his childhood home.

But then she looked at him.

She saw how the easy smile spread across his lips. How his eyes were alight and twinkling like jolly stars in the sky. How his hair was shaggy and bed tousled like he'd arisen from bed minutes ago, not hours. How he had called her beautiful the moment they first met on top of the stairs. How he knocked on her door and begged her to let him in. How they stayed up till dawn asking questions about each other. How he stumbled over his words when he told her he bought her some fudge from Honeydukes. How they fell asleep in each other's arms. How he mouthed 'kiss me' with his lips. How, in the same spot where they were now, he asked her if she'd ever been in love and she'd pretended to be asleep.

And she couldn't obliviate him.

Because she knew that he'd lose his two best friends on his birthday five years from now, and she knew that for twelve years he wouldn't sleep on a bed. Most of all, she knew the two things that would keep him living through it all, give him a reason to open his eyes and blink in the blackness every morning. One was Harry. The other was _her._

She _needed_ him to embrace every second and take life by the gruff of its neck now, while he was still young and blissfully unaware. She needed him to live the way he wanted. And that meant letting him free her and letting him get expelled from Hogwarts.

_He's got NEWTs. _She reminded herself._ He'll go back. _She didn't know _how_ he would go back, but she knew he did.

"Do it then," she said, flashing him with a brilliant smile.

His mouth hung open and he blinked at her, clearly in shock. "_Really?_ You want me to?"

She beamed. "I want you to."

Before he could say anything else she snuggled into his embrace, squeezed her eyes closed and listened to the excited thumping of his heart.

He healed her wrist first, and for several minutes she entertained herself with moving it around in a circle just because she could. It's funny how you take little things like that for granted in everyday life, and you only realise what you have until it's gone. He performed the freeing spell minutes after, and she felt a wave of cool pass over as she was magically relieved from the duties of the Ancient House of Black.

"Time to start living 'Mione. Let's get the fuck out of here."

He pulled her to her feet, wrapped his arm under her knees and lifted her into his arms.

"Where are we going?"

She glanced back over his shoulder as she was carried up the spiral staircase, seeing the dingy basement she had slept in for last month slip away from her. So much had happened to her in that room, and she found herself wandering how something so foul could be the setting for some entirely new and blossoming love between two of its inhabitants. It was oddly surreal, that she would never be on her knees furiously scrubbing at the floors again. But it was a good-surreal. A life changing-surreal. He hoisted her higher into his arms and chuckled amusedly as she squealed and clung onto his shoulders for dear life. In his mind, the tighter she held him the better. He never wanted to let her go.

He kicked open the door and the hall flooded with the dusky moonlight of early morning.

"Sirius!" she stage whispered this time. If it was close to six o'clock Mistress Black would be waking up for the day. "-Tell me where we're going!"

"We'll go shopping to get you some new clothes, then wherever you want," he said, as if it was as easy and as simple as talking about the weather. He started to chuckle because he then added as an afterthought- "I hope you like flying… we're going on my motorbike."

He dropped a kiss to her forehead and grinned charmingly at her as she stared at him, completely and utterly stunned, but more excited than she ever had been in her whole life. They were passing the last portrait of a Black ancestor, Orion Black 2nd, when she said the words. She didn't think three words could be said with the bursting emotion in which she said them.

Well she proved herself wrong.

She cupped a hand around his ear. "I love you."

She felt his muscles tense, and immediately he inclined his head towards her, his eyes quietly seeking the comfort of her own. He found what he needed in them: her sincerity. They could see each other's silhouettes reflected in their eyes. Slowly he lowered her to the floor and raised her chin with a single touch of his finger. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

She didn't know when he had turned from boy to man, but he had. Being in such delicious proximity to him she could see the smattering of dark stubble along his jaw, and the grey blue swirls in his eyes, which looked like every emotion was flittering through them. This Sirius was the Sirius she knew, and the Sirius that she wanted so hopelessly. There were some differences of course, but they looked the same, smelt the same, laughed the same, whispered her name the same.

"Mione... Oh 'Mione, merlin knows I love you too."

Her face flooded with happiness and she smiled until she grinned, grinned until she laughed and laughed until she cried. Why she was crying, really, she didn't know, but Sirius held her in his arms and kissed her until all her trickling tears had dried. That's what they were like when it happened – standing right by the front door, cradling each other's faces, their bodies wound into one as they kissed each other achingly slow, their tongues latching together.

Neither of them realised it was six o'clock.

Breaking for breath and recapturing, he walked them to the door, her back hitting it with a thud that didn't hurt. She whimpered as he deepened the kiss further, hot tongues connecting, his hand on her neck, the other tangled in her hair; he revelled in the sounds she made, the short, sharp breaths she gasped as he traced kisses to her neck.

One minute they were alone, the next minute the eerily loud footsteps of Walburga Black were hurtling down the stairs towards them. The shadow of her raised wand was reflected on the wall.

"YOU MUDBLOOD _WHORE!_"

Sirius saw her in the last second and yanked Hermione out of the way, his eyes wide. Walburga's green killing curse shot past them and into the wall of the drawing room. Both Sirius and Hermione clamped their hands over their ears as the curse blasted the wall apart. Portraits and bricks flew to the air, and everything seemed to slow.

He could hear his mother's ear piercing shrieks, but they sounded far away, echoing in his head, as if he was in a dream. He knew why it that was when he put a hand to his head and felt the bubbling warmth of his blood.

"YOU! GET OUT! GET OUT! YOU DISGUSTING, LOATHSOME PIECE OF FILTH-!"

Sirius was only looking at one person. "Hermione, let's go."

Another killing spell, this time at hurtling for the both of them. They leapt apart like the gates of hell were hot on their heels and it flew by, inches from Hermione's shoulder. The mere heat of it singed his eyebrows and her long hair. With a roar, the wooden banister went up in flames.

"YOU'RE NO SON OF MINE! GET OUT AND NEVER SHOW YOUR FACE TO ME AGAIN! YOU'RE A SHAME TO YOUR FAMILY! A SHAME TO THE NAME OF WIZARD, SHE'S A WHORE, A MUDBLOOD WHORE, DIRT, FILTH-"

Hermione was on the floor, having fallen into a heap of rubble. He kicked and shoved the rubble out of his way to get to her, flattening and ripping several oiled portraits in the process. The whole hallway had been demolished in a matter of seconds, and the fire was getting fiercer, eating up the stairs, licking up carpet. His mother screamed more, like a furious banshee let loose in the room. The fire was spreading now, the smoke getting thicker.

"HERMIONE!" he roared, stretching for her hand. "WE NEED TO GO - _NOW!_"

Hermione reached out for him, struggling to grasp his fingers. Her leg was stuck. And she couldn't reach for her wand.

She could hear cackling, but she didn't know if it was Mistress Black or the fire. Everything was a blur. Her senses were hazy. Sirius saw, out of the corner of his eye, his mother raise his wand again. The final strike. Tears were clawing at his eyes.

"SHIT HERMIONE, MOVE! _MOVE!_"

But she couldn't.

"AVADA-"

Yelling, he dived on top of her.

"KEDAV-"

He landed on top of her back, his body shielding hers and his head buried into her hair. In the last second, he gripped onto her hand. If he was to die, he wanted to do it with her beside him. He wanted to do it being with her, as he wanted to be for the rest of his life. He closed his eyes, and breathed in her scent. The smell of roses in her hair...

"MOTHER STOP!"

There was earth shattering screech followed by a blast that shook the house. The clonk and thud of bricks falling around them filled their ears, and Sirius cocooned his body over Hermione's as much as he could.

There was a muffled yell. Panting and heart pumping, Sirius snapped his head up and saw Regulus behind his mother, his hand wrapped around her hand, both their arms in the air as they wrestled over her wand which he had managed to force into the air, away from them.

"GO SIRIUS!" he roared. "RUN!"

He was wincing with pain, red in the face.

Sirius's head nearly burst with panic. And surprise. And love.

"REG-!"

His little brother let out a cry of pain and bulged his eyes at him desperately. "JUST _GO!_"

Their mother was struggling furiously against him, clawing at his arms, drawing blood. But her eyes were on Sirius, as dead and as black as her name.

"YOU'RE NO SON OF MINE! I WISH YOU WERE DEAD, I WISH YOU HAD NEVER BEEN BORN!"

Regulus was losing control of his mother. "SIRIUS! FUCKING RUN! _NOW!_"

Another cry of pain from his brother that made him shiver to the bone and he scrambled up, breathing so hard his lungs hurt. His hand was trembling, but he managed to wrestle his wand out of his pocket and blast away the bricks that were crushing Hermione's leg. With one swift movement he lifted her into his arms once more.

Hermione pulled her wand out of her bra. This time, it was her time to play, and on _her_ terms. She was the woman who survived the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange after all.

"_Petrificus totalus!_"

It was a perfect hit, smacking Walburga Black square on the chest. Her legs and arms snapped together and she toppled to the floor, all the time screaming as loud as her voice would allow. And she deserved every bit of pain she got, there and then. Regulus collapsed heavily against the wall like a sack of potatoes, clutching his stomach, gasping for air, while Hermione sprayed water out of her wand. The blazing fire sizzled to a stop and the sweltering heat dropped.

When she had finished, Sirius was staring open mouthed at her, the love in his irises never greater. Her amused smile back at him was their cue to leave. He wrenched open the door and turned back around, taking one last look at his brother.

He flashed him a grin. The first in years.

"Thanks Reg. I owe you one."

There was a rev of a motorbike, and then they were gone, the sounds of their laughter floating in the wind.

* * *

><p><em><strong>To the people who reviewed last chapter- thank you. They were very funny and insightful! This chapter is a favourite of mine. And for once, I don't really know what to say. So I'll let you do the talking! -much love x<strong>_


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